Everyday Exchanges
by Fireness
Summary: Horrible title, but in any case.... Series of ficlets, prompts taken from The Big Damn Table, reflecting conversations between the CM characters mostly Morgan and Reid. Beware some slashy ones, but some are gen. Rated for safety
1. Prompt 24: Family

A/N: I had hoped to do these somewhat in order, but I write 'em as they come to me.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even the DVD. Wish I did, but I just am not that rich. XP

**Prompt 24: Family**

"I'm here to see Dr. Reid."

"Friend or Family?" Still staring the file in her hands.

"Family."

A glance upward. "Are you sure about that?" Accusatory sarcasm, and it was really pissing him off.

"Pretty damn sure, yeah. You gonna let me see him?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but we're only allowing family to see Dr. Reid right now. His condition is too precarious, I don't want to overexcite him in any way."

"What are you talking about? I just told you, I am his family."

"Sir, I am not blind."

"You gonna deny me a visit based on my skin colour? That's racial prejudice."

"No, that's looking out for the patient's well-being. Now if you would please –"

"No, you're gonna listen to me. The only 'real' family that man has is a mother in a mental hospital in Nevada. I'm his family now, me and my other coworkers, and I'm not gonna take this bullshit lying down. He's been through a helluva ordeal and he needs all the support he can get right now, and who else you think he gonna get it from? We don't even know if his father's still alive, his mother's in no position to come see him, he is an only child, and I am this close to my breaking point. Now, are you gonna let me see him or not?"

One last tight-lipped glare, one last inner struggle to decide if wrong is right while the right is really the wrong. "Go on, then. But if the doctors catch you, I'm not going to be held responsible, you hear me?"

"Thank you." Curt, but sincere.

When, thirty minutes later, two men and three women stormed down the hallway demanding to see Dr. Reid, the nurse did not even bother asking if they were friends or family. She already knew what they would say. And she had to admit, they made a cute family.

End.


	2. Prompt 02: Middles

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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**Prompt 2: Middles (Garcia and Reid, with a little bit of Morgan at the end)**

"Reid! What the hell are you doing?"

"Huh?" Well, that sounded intelligent. "What are you talking about?"

Wild gestures accompany the exclamation of "That!"

Glance down. "I'm taking it apart, what does it look like?"

"It looks like you are destroying a masterpiece." Indignant.

"I think you're overreacting just a little bit."

"Are you crazy? What are you going to do with it now?"

"What do you think?"

"Oh, no you will not. Reid, that's disgusting. I think I'm gonna puke just thinking about it."

"What? It is way better this way. Watch." A pause. She thinks she really might be sick. "Want one?"

"Hell no. I think you just ruined Little Debbie's for me forever."

A new face peers around the doorway into the break room. "Hey, guys. What's going on?"

"Reid just dismantled three Twinkies and ate all of the middle cream filling."


	3. Prompt 63: Summer

Disclaimer: same as before.

Warning: This drabble can be read as slash, though it is not explicit. It can, however, also be read as just a really close friendship. Ye be warned. Take it as you please.

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**Prompt 63: Summer (Morgan and Reid)**

"Morgan, what on Earth –" Startled, as he comes through the door to their hotel room, to find his colleague spread-eagle, eyes closed, on one of the beds.

"Don't say a word; it's too hot to argue with you."

"Could you have at least kept your underwear on?" It would figure he would get stuck rooming with a nudist.

"Too. Hot. In case you didn't notice, we're in Texas in summer, and the air conditioning in this hotel room is _broken_."

"Yes, I did notice. I stink of sweat, in fact. But that doesn't mean I'm going to go around naked the whole time we're here."

"Reid, it's nearly midnight, and we're supposed to be getting sleep because we have an early day tomorrow. There's no way I'm going to be able to sleep with any sort of clothes on." He opens his eyes to see his companion still fully dressed, in full Reid-regalia. "You won't be able to either."

"That doesn't mean the solution is to lose _all_ of my clothing."

"Oh, for crying out loud, Reid. Make yourself comfortable."

"Nudity hardly makes me comfortable."

"We're both guys, you don't have anything I haven't already seen."

"No, but you have something that I don't."

"Balls?"

"Muscles."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"When one is considered less attractive due to one's scrawny appearance, it makes one self-conscious about taking one's clothes off."

"Listen, One, this ain't the locker room in high school. I'm not gonna laugh at you." He glances at his roommate's progress. The younger man is still mostly fully dressed, minus tie, shoes, and mismatched socks; he is starting to unbutton his shirt. "Hurry up, Reid; I'm getting hot just looking at you."

Rolling his eyes, "Gee, if I had a nickel for every time I heard that," he pauses as he fiddles with a button, "I'd have a nickel."

An amazed smirk. "Why, Dr. Reid, did you just make a sexual innuendo?" He plops his head back down

The other is too busy trying to convince himself it will not be so bad to take off his shirt in front of his coworker to formulate a witty reply. He looks up at the older, larger man, and gets an idea. "Whatever. I'll be right back." He grabs something off the dresser and disappears, not even bothering to re-button his shirt.

The black man chuckles softly to himself. Silly boy, sill Reid. He wonders vaguely where the young man may have gone off to, before deciding it is way too hot to bother. It may be late at night, but the air has hardly cooled down at all.

A few minutes later, the door reopens. Without opening his eyes, he calls out to his colleague, "Hey, Reid, any idea how many people die each year from heat str- YAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, COOOOOOOOOLLLLDDDDDDDD!"

"Ice machine still works."


	4. Prompt 95: New Year

Disclaimer: see chapter 1.

This one isn't up to my usual funny standards; sorry, folks. Also, anyone know what's up with the alerts? My review alerts aren't working.

**

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Prompt 95 New Year (Morgan/Reid – possible slash) **

"So, tell me, Reid. What's your New Year's resolution?" Killing some time as they drive to the witnesses house, just the two of them.

"I resolve to not conform to the unspoken rules of society that dictate that one should attempt on a random day in midwinter to make one singular vow that will supposedly make him or her a better person, only to break said vow two days later."

"In other words, it's none of my damn business?"

"Exactly."

"Uh-huh. No, seriously, I know you made a resolution, whether formally or not. It's just the way you are."

"I resolve to no longer let you prod, tease, or bully information out of me."

"What? I would never."

"You are right now!" Indignant. "Not to mention a couple of other instances I could mention."

"You're avoiding the subject."

"I don't see why it matters so much to you."

A shrug. "'Cause I'm interested in what goes on in that twisted little mind of yours. 'Cause I want you to realize I'm more than just your coworker. 'Cause I can't think of anything more interesting to talk about right now. Take your pick."

"Alright, if you want to pretend like we're so close, tell me what your New Year's resolution is."

"I've got several. But one of them? To get you to open up and talk to me more."

"Funny."

"You think I'm jokin', but I ain't. Listen to me, Reid. We all go through shit sometimes, and it help to have someone we can talk to, you know? Now, as far as I can tell, you don't got that person; you just try to keep everything inside and deal with it on your own, and look where it gets you. Look at what happened after the whole Hank-"

"Can we not bring that up, please?" Anger, impatience, and a little pleading. "I have Gideon to talk to, you know. Isn't that enough?"

"If you think so. I mean, it's all up to you, really. I just like thinking you trust me enough to talk to me about the stuff that bothers you, or even just to share what's new in your life."

"I think you lost that right to my trust when you told Gideon about my nightmares."

"It helped, didn't it?"

"That's beside the point."

Silence for several beats. "I'm sorry I betrayed your trust. But you're not exactly one to talk about keeping secrets, remember."

"Do we really need to reopen every past case we've ever had?"

"No, but you get my point?"

There is no answer for several minutes. They're nearly to their destination, and he thinks maybe the discussion has been dropped, when his companion speaks. "I've resolved to visit my mother at least three times this year: once on my birthday, once on hers, and once for the holidays."

He thinks maybe he will say something smart, perhaps even snide, but he merely gives the boy a smile. "I'm sure she'll love that."

"Yeah."

He parks, reaches out to ruffle the younger man's hair. "Look at that, we just had our first real couple's fight." Smirk.

"Fuck you."


	5. Prompt 33: Too Much

Disclaimer: see chapter 1. Very disappointed with this chapter; it didn't turn out how I wanted it to/

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**Prompt 33: Too Much** (Morgan and Reid)

On the fourth ring, a sleepy voice answers. "Morgan."

"Morgan?" He sounds so shaken, so scared. "It's Reid."

"Reid? You okay?" So concerned.

"Yes. No. I don't…. The nightmares are back."

"Same?"

"Different….but also, yes, the same."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Not really."

Almost fully awake now, he sits up, gets comfortable, ready to ride this out. "It's up to you, of course, but you know it'll help."

A longer pause. "I shouldn't have called; sorry I woke you."

"Nuh-uh, not even gonna happen. Okay, so we won't talk about the nightmare. Talk to me about something else. If you hang up, I'll just call you back. If you turn off your cell, I'll come over to your apartment." He can see in his mind the face the young man is making.

"Anyone ever tell you you're stubborn?" Calmer now, more normal.

"Every damn day of my life."

This time the silence is so dominant, he swears the other must have hung up. Eventually, however, the soft voice continues. "Sometimes it just gets to be too much, you know? All the horror, all the death, it just builds up until I want to scream. And the nightmares come back. Does it ever happen to you?"

"Sure it does. We face to much shit for it not to. And unlike Hotch, we don't have someone we can confide in, to make the hurt less."

"So what do you do?"

"You general or me specific?"

"You specific."

"I call up some buddies, tell them to meet me at the bar, and we get shitfaced together. Or I call Garcia and unload on her, or get her to come watch a movie with me."

"So what do I do?"

"You? I don't know; you'll have to figure that out for yourself. Until you do, don't ever hesitate to call me. I'm here for you, man. You want me to come over?"

"No, I – No. My head doesn't feel so full anymore."

"You? Your head not full?"

"You know what I mean." A smile in his voice, and the older man can't help but smile back.

"Get some sleep, Reid. G'night."

"'Night."


	6. Prompt 06: Hours

A/N: This is the beginning of a five-part miniseries within my drabbles. The prompts are Hours, Days, Weeks, Months, and Years, and the format is different than my previous drabbles. Each part will have five segments in five paragraphs (5 hours, 5 days, etc.) and each paragraph will have exactly 100 words. THIS MINISERIES CONTAINS ACTUAL SLASH, as opposed to the implied slash from previous chapters. Also, because there was some confusion on LJ, I refer to them as THE one and THE other in order to distinguish. This means, simply put, that "the one" Morgan and "the other" Reid.

I tried to get feedback on LJ about this new style, but I only got one review, so I'm going to post this first part here without revision, to hell with if it makes sense or not. I'm kind of disappointed in the lack of feedback and help I've been getting lately. PLEASE, please, please, if it is not too much trouble, hit the little review button and tell me what you think, or at least that you are reading. Say hey. I try to reply to as many signed reviews as possible, to show I actually care about my audience. Sorry for the rant; now on witht he show.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

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**Prompt 6: Hours** (Reid/Morgan)

The first hour is uncomfortable, uneasy, and so enticingly awkward. They didn't expect to find anyone at that unknown bar buried deep in the heart of the city, let alone anyone they knew, let alone each other. The one didn't even realize the other knew how to get drunk, never mind where. The other always had this image of the one surrounded by friends and pretty girls on his hours off, what with his good looks and all, not all alone in a quiet bar. They sit together, half out of obligation, but seeking comfort in each other's company nonetheless.

The second hour is a little more relaxed, a little more sociable. The one is slightly buzzed by now, while the other is halfway to drunk; he has no resistance to liquor whatsoever. They have agreed without words to not discuss the mutual reason for escapism (that little girl need not have died, if only they had been quicker), and both find their moods lifting considerably in this unsought, unusual companionship. They laugh freely and easily, remember the better days and sweeter times. Secrets begin to be revealed, past mistakes and current wishes brought into the dim, dull, smoky light.

The third hour is no more than an easily-forgotten transition from one place to another, whether emotional, hormonal, or physical. They are tired of this bar and its depressing atmosphere; they feel so light now, they need a change. They decide to catch a cab to the one's apartment, where they can be alone to and won't disturb others. What starts as an innocent prank (a hand on a knee – didn't you say you always wanted to "experiment?") quickly turns into heated lust, hands pawing, groping, until the driver threatens to throw them out before they arrive at their destination.

The fourth hour is just that much more memorable, for the brevity and inconsequentiality of the third. They make it into his apartment (barely) before they throw themselves at each other in drunkenly sober haze. They don't care, don't care about anything, as all reservations and uncertainties are pushed aside. The other has never done this before, and the one is hardly greatly experienced, but they fumble and grope their way to sticky satiation. It is hot, sweaty and oh-so-gorgeous, the way they come together, working slowly up to it to keep the other from getting too scared to continue.

The fifth hour begins in warmth, but as it draws to a close, the soft heat turns to lonely coldness. They collapse on the bed in a sweaty heap, using a discarded shirt to clean themselves. The one falls asleep quickly, holding his prize tight in his arms, but the other is less restful. He waits until his companion begins to snore slightly before wiggling out of the crushing embrace and collecting his clothes. He does not even look back at the prone figure lying on the bed as he exits the apartment, closing the door with a declarative _snap_.


	7. Prompt 07: Days

A/N: special thanks to all of you who take the time to review, and everyone who has put me on their alert list. You guys make me feel so awesome.

Disclaimer: see ch 1

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**Prompt 7: Days **(Morgan/Reid) Part Two of miniseries

Day one dawns as a wet, cold, miserable Sunday. The older man wakes suddenly, surprised to find that he is alone. It takes him some time to gather the energy to get up; he cannot face the world and its consequences just yet. There are no side effects from his drinking. A half-hour's drive away, the younger man groans, holds his pounding head. He has never felt sicker in his life. He thinks maybe the older one will call (and the older thinks the same, for a while) but the phone remains silent until dusk arrive, signaling sleep time again.

Day two is a Monday, and they can no longer avoid it – the inevitable meeting and awkwardness that thereby comes. The others cannot help but notice the politeness, the discomfort, the avoidance of eye contact, but they think nothing of it (maybe the older man has been teasing the younger one too much again). He feels so bad for ditching his friend, his comrade, and it makes his heart ache, but he cannot bear the idea of facing the man. He forces himself to throw up secretly in the bathroom, and leaves, claiming illness. It's not so hard to fake.

Day three arrives, and once more the younger man calls in sick, saying he is not over his upset stomach from the day before. The older man comes in right on time (well, a couple of minutes late), notes the empty desk. He carefully avoids asking about it, does not want to seem too concerned, too anxious. A new case comes in – only just up the coast, thankfully. The younger man will be able to join them when he is better, their boss assures them (him). Rather than relieved, the older man thinks he is beginning to feel ill, too.

On day four, just as the younger man is considering calling in again (flu, maybe?), the phone rings. It is his boss, demanding in that oh-so-calm voice that he must stop acting like a child or get out of the unit. Shortly thereafter, he's in his car and headed toward the crime scene, about fifty miles away. The older man acts like nothing happened, and he's immediately at ease. As the day ends, they head back to the hotel (easier than driving each day), where they are to share a room. Inevitably, it turns out they need only one bed.

Day five feels like it should be awkward, but it isn't. This time when they wake, they are together, each holding on to the other. The younger man does not try to run this time, but rather relaxes and enjoys this feeling, this unavoidable circumstance. They cannot deny the attraction, and for the most part they do not want to. Instead, early in the morning, before they are called away to duty, they work out the details. They agree they must not tell anyone, and they must be circumspect. As long as they can be together; they will not falter.


	8. Prompt 08: Weeks

A/N: I'm not pleased with how this one turned out, but it and "Months" are just fillers until I get to the fifth and final part, which I've had planned since I started "Hours." Hope you enjoy anyway.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

**Prompt 8: Weeks** (Morgan/Reid) Part 3/5

That first week had been so up and down, but at least it ended on a happy note (or even several, he later thought). They caught the bad guy, there had been relatively few deaths, and they could go home. For the two new lovers, this meant getting to know each other on a deeper, more intimate (sexual) level. Not to be mistaken for true romance, this was a "love" of convenience; in short, the sex was amazing. A couple of times they tried to connect mentally, these attempts usually ended with less words and more kissing, groping, moaning, sex.

The second week, as if to make up for the tumultuous first, they got together as often as possible without raising too much suspicion. It was not exactly odd, before all this, for the older man to drag the younger, more reluctant one to some bar or club, but they did not do so very often. Once a week, would they head out together. Now, they had to be circumspect about their late-night meetings at one or the other's apartment, and early-morning arrivals at the office. A routine developed every night: sex, sleep, one leave, both arrive at work separately.

The third week settled on a middle ground between the first two; they were still together often, but they had come to a point where they were not as needy and desperate for the touch of one another. It was starting to develop more into a real relationship. They still did not "date," per se, but they could finally begin to open up to each other. Secrets were told, both good and bad, but still some distance was kept. This was just sex between coworkers, they maintained. They knew they had nothing really in common, knew it would not last.

The fourth week was mostly spent apart, as they had a case that required one to stay in one town while the other traveled with a few of the others. It was tedious, it was annoying, but they insisted it was not a big deal. And it would have been, too, if it weren't for the report of shots fired, men down, casualties. His heart clenched in fear, but unable to otherwise express the sheer terror that gnawed at him. When he got the good-news call (not from his lover, that wouldn't be advisable), he nearly melted from the relief.

Starting in the fifth week, a realization was beginning to come into focus; now that they had felt the sweet passion, the incredible lust, the joy of knowledge not shared with others, there simply was no going back to being "just friends." They tried to deny it, but it was inevitable. Maybe it wasn't exactly love, but it was pretty damn close to it. They even considered telling the others for a while, but then decided the risk of being split up was just too great. Instead, they settled for moving several of each person's items into the other's apartment.


	9. Prompt 09: Months

Disclaimer: See chapter 1 

**Prompt 9: Months **(Reid/Morgan) Part 4/5

One month into their relationship, they were beginning to see how much they actually meant to each other. They had been in denial at first, but with new developments arising, they were beginning to be willing to concede that maybe, perhaps, just a little they actually cared for each other as more than just friends or fuck-buddies. If anybody at work noticed, they said nothing, kept their businesses to themselves. For their part, the lovers showed nothing, revealed no stronger feelings toward each other than the usual banter. The older still teased the younger, the younger still outsmarted the older.

Two months into their relationship, they were beginning to wear on each other. The novelty of their togetherness had worn off, and nerves were beginning to get frayed (no the dog cannot sleep on the bed, there's no room. Get those freezing feet away from me, punk). They started taking time away from each other (or as much as they could, what with working together and everything), a few days here and there. This, they were sure, was good for their relationship, gave each other time to themselves. After all, it's not like they would move in together or anything.

Three months in and they hardly ever saw each other outside of work; either there was no time, or they were too busy sniping at each other to arrange a little rendezvous. They were aggravating each other entirely too much, and now even their coworkers were starting to notice. No one said anything, except for their techie, who had all the subtlety and tact the proverbial bull in the china shop. They denied it at first, but when she promised not to tell the others, the older man relented. With her help, they were able to develop a steadier relationship.

Four months into their relationship, and things seemed about the same as in their second month, but this was still an improvement from before. They were beginning to work out their differences, though there was still the occasional argument about the poor dog (allergies be damned, he was not getting rid of his pet). The sex, on the other hand, continued to be amazing, and they simply could not get enough of each other, lust-wise. They admitted to themselves, though not to each other, that if it weren't for the sexual electricity, they would have called it quits long ago.

It was five months before they finally found themselves in a good, healthy place. They were opposite personalities, which made it harder to get along, but they were making it work, somehow. They still kept separate apartment, though by this point it was a mere formality to try to stop the others from wondering (it didn't work) and to reserve a safe haven for the middle of a fight. There was sometimes talk about quitting while they were ahead, but the end decision was always the same: they couldn't be apart now that they knew what it was like together.


	10. Prompt 10: Years

A/N: The long-awaited finale. Will get back to conversation-style drabbles after this, I promise. I have one in progress as I write this.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

**Prompt 10: Years **(Reid/Morgan) Part 5/5

For their first year anniversary, they agreed to not get each other gifts, and promptly went behind each others backs to get the presents. The younger man preferred to go for the traditional gift of paper, while the older man (ironically) went for the modern present of a clock (that is what the internet said, anyway). In any case, the bookcase in the older man's apartment now bore a brand spanking new copy of Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut Jr., and the younger man's wall now held a funny-looking cuckoo clock that kept them both amused every time the hour chimed.

The second anniversary was not exactly celebrated on time; they were in an off-again phase of their rather up and down relationship. When they got back together again a month or so later, however, the younger man presented his lover with personalized boxers. The older man was ashamed to admit he had thrown out his lover's gift in a fit of anger (in this case he had gone for the traditional cotton rather than modern china – china seemed too… marriage-like). By this point, a couple of their coworkers had a vague idea about their relationship, though they said nothing aloud.

The traditional gift for the third anniversary is leather – the younger man knew he could have a lot of fun with this idea. In the end he decided on leather chaps both as a dig at his significant other and as a nod to the only person who openly knew about their secret relationship. The older man considered the idea of leather for a while, but when he saw the glass chess set, he simply could not resist. The set became a prominent piece of the younger's apartment, which everyone commented on, but no one asked where it came from.

For the fourth anniversary, the younger man had a hard time deciding what to get his lover. Fruit and flowers seemed too frivolous, while appliances seemed too weighty, in more ways than one. Finally, he chose to go with the facetious and got a bunch of bananas. The older man, on the other hand, had something of a lapse in memory, and almost completely forgot about the anniversary, had it not been for seeing the flower shop on the way home. He swerved into the parking lot and quickly bought a bouquet of irises (he knew they were his favourites).

On the fifth anniversary, the older lover remembered that same flower shop on his way to his destination, and stopped in. The woman working the counter recalled him from last year, and smiled at him. She chided him in a friendly way about getting flowers two years in a row when the traditional fifth gift was wood, and the modern was silverware. He shook his head, took the irises, and continued on. He arrived and wandered through the peaceful fields, until he found the exact spot. _Beloved Friend, Son, and Lover. Killed in the Line of Duty. Rest in Peace. _


	11. Prompt 34: Not Enough

A/N: Okay, after the depression that was last chapter, here's something light-hearted.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

**Prompt 34: Not Enough** (Reid and Morgan)

"There's not enough sugar in there."

He cocks an eyebrow at his younger colleague. It had seemed a fair trade-off at the time (proofreading reports in exchange for him making a cup of coffee for him), yet they seem to have reached some small snag….

"What do you mean, not enough? Did you even see how much I put in there?"

"Yes, of course I did. It's not enough."

"Reid, I dumped like three tablespoons' worth in there."

"So? I like my coffee sweet."

"Coffee ain't s'posed to be sweet. It's s'posed to be bitter."

"Says who?"

"Says the fact that the coffee bean is bitter."

"So is the cocoa bean."

"Your point?"

"Simply that you eat sweetened chocolate that is originally bitter. It's a direct analogy to your coffee theory."

He's beginning to get aggravated. "If coffee were meant to be sweet, the manufacturers would sweeten it like they do chocolate."

"Baker's chocolate is unsweetened."

"Do I look like a baker to you?"

"Of course not, but the fact altogether remains –"

Another figure approaches, cutting off his words abruptly. "Morgan, I need your report if it's finished."

"It would be if Captain Sweet-tooth here would get a move on. He promised to look it over for me." He adds another large tablespoon of sugar to the murky mixture.

"Oh, I'm already finished," the other admits. "I'm just waiting on my payment."

The taller man proffers the drink in exchange for the edited report, which he promptly hands to their superior, before heading off in an effort to avoid any more talk of sugar and coffee and chocolate. The younger man sips at his beverage, winces. "Morgan!"

Exasperated. "What?"

"There's not enough sugar in here!"


	12. Prompt 91: Birthday

Birthday present for Nebula99 on Livejournal! Warning: contains slashiness.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

**Prompt 91: Birthday** (Morgan/Reid)

"Happy birthday, Reid." A present offered.

Sitting at his desk, he glances up. He had thought he was the only one left at the office on a Friday night, but he seems to have been mistaken. "Uh, thanks? Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but you already gave me a present." He takes it cautiously.

"That was the present I could give you in front of the others. This is slightly more personal."

His curiosity getting the better of him, he slits the tape carefully, trying to not damage the beautiful paper. "A soothing sounds machine?"

"For at night. You said you'd been having trouble getting to sleep lately, and that the nightmares are back." At the young man's nod, he continues. "I thought this might help. I got one for myself a while back, and it's really helped me, especially after a hard case. I just figured you could try it out. If it doesn't work, let me know; I'll see if I can think of something else that might work."

Nearly rendered speechless, he stutters, "I – uh – I don't – thank you." He gives the older man a helpless look.

A sharp, relaxing grin, a ruffle of the other's hair. "Don't worry about it, kid." He starts to leave.

"Morgan –"

Turns back. "Yeah?"

Suddenly, for the talkative man who babbles during uncomfortable silences, words do not seem adequate. He gets up, approaches, gives a tentative hug (he has never been good at physical contact). Repeats, "Thank you."

A soft, indulgent smile. "You're welcome. Need a ride home?"

"Yeah, just let me grab my bag. Got any plans this evening?"

"That an invitation?" Teasingly.

"No, just wondering. You usually don't stay this late on Friday night. Don't you have some party or something to attend?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I was going to invite a coworker of mine over to my apartment for a drink or something."

Catching the mood, he smiles. "Is that so? How do you know this coworker will accept?"

As they enter the elevator, he slings an arm around his young comrade's shoulders. "Call it a gut instinct."

Instead of stiffening like he normally would, he feels himself relax. "Hmmm, well, I think your gut might be right in this case."

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Reid?"

He turns his head to look at the man next to him; they are so disturbingly comfortably close. "Yeah."

A light brush of lips on lips, barely there. "Happy birthday."


	13. Prompt 80: Why?

Disclaimer: see chapter 1.

Author's Notes: I don't think I have any for once. D

**Prompt 80: Why?** (Reid and Morgan)

"Why are you here?"

Surprise turns to evasion as the question sinks in. "Well, isn't that the biggest question of all? Some would say we are here to serve the will of some omnipotent god, while others believe –"

"I don't mean "you" general, I mean "you" personal. Why are you here?" Intensity never wavers.

Fidgeting, "Well, after I got my last degree in college, I decided I wanted to do something useful with my talents, so I applied to the FB-"

"Don't be a smartass, Reid; it doesn't become you." Is he even blinking?

"In that case, I don't understand the question."

"What's not to understand? Why – are – you – here?"

"Here implying…?"

"Here at this bar."

"Oh, well that's easy. I'm here at this bar because Garcia threatened me with painful death if I did not learn how to socialize like the rest of humankind. Of course, I'm not sure why it would be considered normal to move around like a spastic lizard on a tiny floor with several other half-inebriated lizards crushed against me to music that can hardly be called such, and drink substances that will later cause severe headaches, violent illness, and potential memory loss."

"Okay, I will give you that. But from where I'm sitting, it looks to me like you are on a stool at the bar with me, instead of moving like a 'spastic lizard' out on the dance floor with Garcia, even though she again threatened you with bodily harm. So, tell me, Reid: why are you here?"

Trapped. Cornered. Fenced in. Ensnared. Tricked. Are there any more words to describe the feeling in the pit of his stomach? "Even threats can't force me into that conglomeration of sweat, sex, and idiocy?"

"I see." Seriously, were his eyes not getting the least bit dry?

A gulp of liquid fortification, a deep breath for support. "Because I'd rather be sitting here with you than out there on the dance floor with Garcia."

"What if I were out there and Garcia were sitting here with you." At least now he's smiling, if only a little bit.

"That depends." Mischief around the corners of his mouth and eyes.

"On?"

"On how good your impression of a spastic lizard is."

An outright laugh this time. "Get that scrawny ass out on the dance floor."


	14. Prompt 38: Touch

A/N: Quick dedication to my most diligent, thorough, and wonderful reviewer Mimicking Karma on You always give me such good and critical feedback. In case you haven't received any of my review responses, THANK YOU!

A/N2: Sort of a sequel to Prompt 80: Why?

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

**Prompt 38: Touch **(Morgan/Reid)

"Reid, it's called dancing, not standing. And to dance, you have to actually move your body."

"I am moving my body."

"Barely."

"I told you I'm no good at this."

"C'mon, Reid, move your hips."

"Better?"

"And your arms. You look like an idiot with them just hanging there."

"Morgan…."

"Alright, you little smartass, you can stop spazzing like a deranged lizard now. You've made your point; you really can't dance."

"See?!"

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"I thought…."

"I know what you thought. Get your ass back over here. I'mma teach you how to dance without making others die from laughing too much."

"Oh, thanks a lot, just what I -" He stops abruptly as he feels himself being taken into strong, muscular arms; surprised, he stiffens at first, tries to pull away, but to no avail. He cannot free himself, so he relaxes into the hold, the wide hands on his hips, directing them, as the crowd pushes them front to font. He wants to stammer an apology, but he feels a mouth _right next_ to his ear, and at the words ("Relax, I won't hurt you"), he finds himself speechless – something that simply does not occur very often.

Strong hands guide him in time to the music, pull him close to that glorious body, make him forget that there is even a world around him apart from that other, gorgeous man. He nearly gasps at the wonderful hardness that meets his own, and he knows he is losing himself to the sensations, the beat, the man. He normally shies away from physical contact, apart from a friendly handshake or a quick pat on the back, but there is something so…intoxicating about this new experience…. He doesn't ever want to be let go.

Maybe dancing isn't all that bad, after all.


	15. Prompt 47: Heart

A/N: Sequel to the last two prompts. There should only be one more part after this one, but who really knows. Just need to find the time to write it down.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

**Prompt 47: Heart** (Reid/Morgan and Garcia)

He accepts the water he ordered from the bartender, turns around. Finds himself face to face with possibly the last person he wants to see right at that moment. "Garcia, you startled me."

Her grin is so wide it should be illegal. "Hey there, hot stuff. Saw you out there on the dance floor."

"And?"

"And I must say you were really shakin' your thang." The smile grows even wider. "With Morgan, no less."

"He was just teaching me how to not look like an idiot." Still, he can't keep the blush that spreads over his already flushed face.

"Uh huh. So, when's the wedding?"

He nearly chokes on his water. "Garcia! That's not funny."

She laughs. "I'm kidding, Reid. Relax. Where is he, anyway? I'm surprised you two aren't still on the floor 'getting to know each other.'"

"He had to use the restroom, and I wanted some water." He indicates the bottle in his hand.

"I see. And what happens next?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Reid. You two were all over each other out there. Is this a lasting thing, or just one time only?"

"What, you mean is he going to give me dancing lessons every Friday night or something?" Genuinely confused as only he can be.

"Do I gotta spell it out for you? Are you in a relationship now, or are you just going to go home and screw each other senseless?"

He gapes. "Garcia, Morgan's straight. He's like…the straightest guy I know."

She actually has the nerve to laugh at him. "Who told you that?"

"Nobody told me, it's just…_obvious_."

"And here I thought _you_ were the profiler. Go ask him yourself. Walk up to him and say, 'Morgan, are you straight, gay, or bi?'"

"No way."

"Yes way, Reid. You gotta take a chance, if only this one time in your life. That's your problem; you don't take chances when you should. Live a little, for goodness' sake. What's the worst that could happen?"

"He could laugh at me or think I'm an idiot."

"You know him better than that. He wouldn't laugh at you, and trust me: he will never think you're an idiot. Did he laugh at your version of 'dancing'?"

"Well, no, but…. Look, he's over there, talking to a group of girls. No way am I going to ask him that in front of them."

"So ask for a private word. Ask him for another dance." She smiles impishly.

He casts a suspicious look at her, realization dawning on him. "Even if he is gay, who says I am, or even that I'd want to 'screw him senseless' as you so charmingly put it?"

"Oh, please. Reid, you're so fem it puts JJ to shame." She laughs as he splutters again, and then grows serious. "Reid, this is something you really need to learn: sometimes you can't think with your head. Sometimes you just have to follow your heart.

He shakes his head. "Fine, I'm going. At this point, I'd rather be anywhere but here talking to you."

She watches as he walks over toward their coworker and his horde of fangirls. When Reid reaches them, Morgan greets him with a cheerful hello and an arm slung around his shoulder; Reid doesn't smile. Instead, he eases himself out from under the other man's grip and says something to him. Morgan's smile falters, but he turns to the ladies and apparently bids them farewell because they all walk away looking slightly disappointed. Reid fidgets for several seconds, the look on his face one of absolute uncertainty; Morgan's face grows steadily more worried until he finally says something. Reid takes one look at his face and blurts it out. Morgan smiles, obviously reassured, and replies – but as he speaks, the frown reappears (oh, how she wishes she could read lips). Relief sweeps over the younger man's face. He says something that makes his companion laugh loudly, and he smiles slightly himself. Morgan places his hand on the boy's arm – and maybe squeezes just a little – to pull him closer (she can feel herself growing wet at the thought of what's to come). Sure enough, the older man pulls the boy close to his body and lowers his lips to the ones waiting for him – cautious, as though taming a skittish colt. She can practically see Reid melt under the man's ministrations, as they kiss for several long, hot moments (she wonders if she has grown as flushed as they). When they break apart, few words are said, but barely a minute later, they are out the door.

"Well, my job here is done." She turns to the man sitting next to her. "Hey there, gorgeous. Wanna dance?"


	16. Prompt 01: Beginnings

A/N: Sequel to the previous three chapters (Why?, Touch, and Heart). Fourth and probably final part. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

**Prompt 1: Beginnings **(Reid/Morgan)

"Hey Reid!" Sounds so enthusiastic as he slings his arm around the bony shoulders. "Ladies, may I introduce you to my good friend Spencer Reid?"

He can't bring himself to respond to the giggly greetings, opts instead to wiggle out of the older man's strong grip. "Can I talk to you alone?"

His smile wavers – the young man sounds so series. "Excuse us, ladies. We'll catch up with you later and if you're really nice maybe Reid will show you what a great dance teacher I am."

He watches the disappointed women leave with no small amount of anxiety. He can't quite meet the older man's eyes, and he knows this is making the other concerned. He feels the intensity of his companion's gaze increase steadily with each passing second. He can't go through with this, he can't open himself up like this – the other man will undoubtedly laugh, no matter what she told him. One glance into those infinite eyes as the man gently utters his name, though, and he can't help himself, "Are you gay?"

His eyes crinkle up as he smiles. "I saw you over there talking to Garcia; I wondered what you were saying. No, I'm not gay, but I do consider myself bisexual." A frown invades the beautiful face. "Does that bother you?"

He feels utmost relief at these first words, and he knows it shows on his visage. "No, not really. Quite the opposite, actually." He pauses, then takes a risk. "Actually, Garcia says I'm so fem I put JJ to shame."

He laughs at this. "I thought you seemed to be enjoying yourself out on the dance floor more than you let on."

"I was." Suddenly shy, almost wistful.

A hand on an arm, testing, assessing, before pulling the body closer. There is no resistance. The younger man turns his head upward slightly, accepting the gentle lips that descend upon his. The kiss is slow, soft, but oh-so-fiery and passionate, bringing their bodies to life. Time around them stops, the music and people pressing in on all sides disappear as lips move, tongues duel, hands clench. He is growing hard and for once he doesn't care because he knows his partner is, too. All too soon, after eternities, they break apart, breathless, desperate for more.

"What say we skip the club and head over to my place; I got way better music there." He can barely breathe to form the words.

The usually loquacious man has been rendered speechless. He nods desperately against the older man's shoulder, silently pleading. This time when the arm comes around his shoulders, he does not shrug away. He just barely has time to glance at the woman still sitting at the bar, a smug look on her face as he is steered out of the noisy building and into the night.


	17. Prompt 23: Lovers

A/N: I have no idea where this came from. Me and my disturbed imagination...

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

**Prompt 23: Lovers** (Morgan/Reid)

"Tell me about your first time."

"Guy or girl?"

"First ever."

Shifts to get comfortable, leaning against the hard body of his lover. "My first time was with a girl. I was sixteen, she was twenty-one, and I had been tutoring her in an advanced psych class. Anyway, we didn't exactly date or anything, but one time after I'd helped her with an assignment, she came onto me, kinda just started kissing me." He flushes. "It was over almost before we even got started, but she gave me a few more chances. Said it was really hot having sex with a genius." Shakes his head. "This one time she wanted me to recite the periodic table of elements while she blew me, see how far I could get before she reduced me to incoherent babble."

His lover chuckles gently. "How far did you get?"

"All the way through. She wasn't exactly good at giving head. She broke up with me when I told her as much." The smile is more than a little self-deprecating. "Not one of my finest moments."

Laughing full-out now, "You keep tutoring her?"

Shakes his head in the negative. "She was admitted to a mental institution soon after. I never did find out what was wrong with her."

"Other than that she wanted you to recite the periodic table?"

"Yeah, other than that she wanted to have sex with me in the first place." Almost bitter.

"You saying anyone who wants to have sex with you is crazy?" Indignant.

Apologetically, he smiles. "No, I guess not. After all, Ethan didn't have any severe mental disorders that I knew of. You, on the other hand…." Both grin at this.

"Ethan was your first male lover, then?"

"Yeah, and my only long-term relationship. It ended when I went into the FBI, though. I had one other fling with a girl, and that was it for my sex life. What about you? Tell me about your first."

A dark look passes over his face. "You already know about my first."

Horror. "I'm so sorry, I completely forgot!"

"Hey now, don't worry about it. I've had plenty of more pleasant experiences since."

"Oh?" A return to teasing. "Just how many is 'plenty'?"

"Well, considering I am currently seeing an insatiable sex-fiend, I'd say quite a bit." Sweet, promising kisses leave them both breathless.

"I'm the insatiable one, huh?"

"Oh, most definitely. You just can't keep your hands off of me." His lips slide inevitably down his younger lover's neck, to his abdomen, opening shirt buttons as he goes.

"Derek…ah! I think you've mistaken me for you."

The older man chuckles around the rosy nipple in his mouth. "Maybe." He kisses lower, working on the belt as he does.

The young genius whispers words of encouragement, writhing most enticingly under the stronger man. Maybe his lover is right, maybe he is insatiable…but at this very moment, he doesn't really care. He can be called anything in any language right now and he wouldn't mind, as long as his lover stays on his present course.

"Hey Reid. What say we see how much of the periodic table of elements you can recite before I reduce you to a babbling idiot?"


	18. Prompt 60: Drink

A/N: I did not enjoy writing this, but it was requested on my LiveJournal by mulitple reviewers. So here it is, the sequel to "Lovers" in which you get to see Reid actually reciting the periodic table. Hurrah. -- (Fireness is never writing porn again). Next up: Much angst!!!!

Warning!: This chapter contains (more or less) explicit sexual content. Do not read if you are offended by such acts.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

**Prompt 60: Drink** (Morgan/Reid)

"Number one: hydrogen, symbol H. Number two: Helium, symbol He. Number three: Lithium, symbol Li."

Not wasting any more time, Morgan slides to his knees in between his genius lover's parted legs. The look of concentration on the younger man's face is priceless, and the elder can't help the grin that spreads over his lips as he unbuckles the boy's trousers, purposely rubbing the awakening cock.

"Number ten: Neon, symbol Ne. Number eleven: Sodium, symbol Na."

Well, obviously he was going to have to pick up the pace. Morgan carefully wills the smirk off of his face before lowering his lips to the waiting erection. He just barely grazes the head before pulling back slightly to run his tongue over the length; Reid barely even blinks.

"Number fourteen: silicon, symbol Si. Number fifteen: Phosphorous, symbol P."

Whatever might be going on in Reid's brain, it is obvious that his body is enjoying the attention. He is almost fully hard now as Morgan picks up the pace, licking and nuzzling more urgently now. His progress downwards is impeded, however, by the younger man's pants still around his waist; Morgan pulls them further down to the boy's knees with almost no help from Reid himself. And still he continues.

"Number twenty-three: Vanadium, symbol V. Number twenty-four: Chromium, symbol Cr."

Morgan's hands begin a thorough massage of the thighs framing his face as he laves Reid's balls, taking his time with each one. He can feel the small tremours running through the younger man's legs; he knows he's not quite there yet, but he is getting closer. He returns to the crown of the glistening member, takes it into his mouth, and begins working it with his tongue in earnest now, smearing the pre-cum all over the hard cock.

"Number thirty: Zinc…symbol Zn." His breathing hitches slightly; he closes his eyes tightly. "Number thirty-one: Gallium. Ga."

The older man is hard-pressed to fight back his smile now. The young genius is quickly succumbing to his plot. Without further ado, he swallows the other man whole.

"Number – ah! Number thirty-eight: Strontium, symbol Sr. Number forty: Zirco-"

He is released with an audible slurping sound. "Whoa, hold it right there, genius. You skipped thirty-nine."

Reid stares at him, dazed. "Huh?"

"You heard me. You went straight from thirty eight to forty."

"I – uh." He shakes his head to clear it.

"I believe this means I won."

A hand grabs the back of his head. "Uh-uh. You don't win until I reach the end, one way or the other."

Morgan chuckles. "So either way you win?"

"Exactly," Reid hisses as that talented mouth slips over his cock again. He struggles for control for a moment before resuming his recitation. The older man is going all out now, pushing Reid toward the edge as best as he knows how. The younger man's brain seems to be almost to the point of overload. "Forty-five: Rhodium – oh god. Rh. Forty-six: Palladium. Forty-se – seven…. Forty-seven: Silver…."

His hips are twisting and writhing now, struggling to pump up into his lover's face, but Morgan easily keeps him down, swallowing mercilessly. It is just a matter of seconds before he is shooting down the older man's throat, babbling wordlessly. Morgan swallows everything he has to give before clambering up onto the sofa next to him and pulling him into his arms. Reid is silent, trying to catch his breath; the black man whispers soft words of comfort into his ear. When the younger man is no longer gasping, Morgan smiles. "I win, by the way. Forty-nine."

"Uhn," Reid grunts. He looks at his lover, and suddenly the mischievous look is back in his eyes. "Numbers eighty-four, eighty-five, and eighty-six: Polonium, Astatine, and Radon."

"Your point?"

"If you take the Astatine out of there, you have symbols Po and Rn."

He laughs softly. "What say we go into the bedroom for a little P-O and R-N of our own, and take care of this?" He rocks his crotch gently into Reid's thigh.

A beautiful grin. "Only if you recite the periodic table."

"How about I recite the reasons I can't get enough of you, instead?" Hushed, seductive words, whispered right in his lover's ear.

"Or we could do that."

-End

P.S.: Mimicking Karma: In case you didn't get my Review Reply, CONGRATS ON THE JOB!!!


	19. Prompt 30: Death

A/N: Turned out longer than I expected, but then Garcia really likes to talk. Needed some angst after all that fluff. My beta, thefrogg, suggested I use past tense instead of present tense...I still have some misgivings, but I'm doing it her way for now. 

**Prompt 30: Death** (Reid and Garcia)

"Hey Garcia, can I get you to look up some information on the latest victim, Scott Anderson?"

"Reid! You scared me. Hotch said you were taking some personal time off."

"He was misinformed. Look, I think there's something we're missing that's right in front of our faces. Can you pull up his medical records?"

"What do you mean misinformed? Wasn't he the one who approved the request?"

"Garcia…."

"Reid."

"I don't know what Hotch told you, but obviously I'm not taking some time off, so if you would please just let me look at his records –"

"Then why aren't you out in the field with the rest of the team?"

"Garcia!"

"Reid!"

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to know why you look like you haven't slept, bathed, or eaten in a week. And why you're here when you're supposed to be at home for whatever reason."

"It's unimportant, and moreover it's none of your business. Would you just…pull up the information, please?"

"Fine, here." A few taps on the keyboard. "Ah! No touchy."

"Scroll down, please…. Down….Down….Okay, can you pull up Amy Patterson's information next to it?"

"What do you see?"

"Something….Maybe nothing…."

"Oh, well _that_ makes sense."

"No, it doesn't really…."

"Huh? Reid…. Reid? Reid!"

"What?"

"Stop pacing and muttering to yourself; it's making me nervous. Take a seat and _relax_." He plopped down in the seat next to hers, elbows on knees, hands clenched together, head drooping. He was the epitome of exhaustion. She wanted him to shut up, but with that heavy silence filling the air, she suddenly wanted him talking again. "Reid, sweetie? Are you okay? Spencer?"

"She's dead."

She glanced back at the computer screen. Surely he didn't mean Amy Patterson; they already knew she was dead, along with five other men and women of varying ages, races, and social backgrounds. "Who is, baby?"

"My mom." There were tears in his voice.

She felt the air catch in her lungs, the words stick in her throat. "Reid, I…I'm so sorry. What – How – " A pause to draw in a breath, reign in her thoughts. "Is there anything I can do - ?"

"No. No, I'm….I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Come here." She held her arms open to him. He hesitated, then leaned over in his chair to awkwardly accept her embrace; at her firm guidance, however, he was pulled from his seat, to his knees, where she could hold onto him better, more securely. He wanted to resist, but somehow couldn't find the willpower anymore – sometimes it just felt good to give up control. After all, he had been taking care of his mother for years now, and ….

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, just –" He could not bring himself to say it, to admit that kneeling here, despite the hard floor, felt good, with her hands cradling his face to her chest and petting his hair tenderly. Could not bring himself to say the words. _Just hold me._

As if instinctively reading his mind, she pulled him closer to her. "I'm here for you, honey."

It was the tears that spilled first, wetting his cheeks and soaking her shirt, but the words came tumbling out soon after. "She killed herself. The doctors were – She wasn't on suicide watch or anything. She made no indication that she was going to do it, but then…. They just opened the door to her room and there she was. Hanged herself with her bedclothes. They think she was just tired of living in the institution, all by herself except for the other patients, and the doctors and nurses." His grip tightened at this point. "It's all my fault."

"What?" She drew back slightly, lifting his face to look into his eyes. "Don't you even _dare_ think that. You love your mother, you did what you knew would be best for her. I know that, the doctors and nurses know that, and I'm sure deep down, your mother knew it, too. You can't go blaming yourself for your mother's actions."

"But…. Garcia, I never visited her even though I had plenty of chances. I locked her away because I was ashamed of her." At these words he buried his face in her lap, unable to face her anymore.

She resumed rubbing his scalp gently, letting him cry himself out. Who knew if this poor kid had anyone else to turn to when he needed them the most? He spent so much of his time hiding his emotions that it was a wonder he hadn't exploded before now. "Re- Spencer…. You were just a kid. All kids are ashamed of their parents."

"Yeah, but not all kids lock their parents in insane asylums." Bitter, resentful, full of self-hatred.

"Well, no. But not all kids have to take care of a mother with a mental disorder."

"I could have dealt with it differently. I could have taken care of her on my own."

"And where would that leave us?" She gave him a sad smile as he raised his head. "We need our boy-genius. Did you ever stop to think that maybe she's happier now that she's not constantly sick?"

Reid sat back, pushed his hair out of his eyes. "The doctors said she'd been exceedingly lucid the last few days – more so than usual. She talked about how she wished she wasn't sick, but not to the point that they suspected she might try to end her own life. She talked about some of the things she would have liked to do if she hadn't been hospitalized. I… I never before knew that she'd always wanted to travel to Africa and spend a couple of months there just traveling and watching the animals in their natural habitats. She never told me that."

Garcia did not need to be a psychologist to understand what he was really saying. "You feel like you took that away from her."

"Yeah."

"Look at me, Reid." Grasping his chin to make sure his eyes didn't stray, she continued, "You didn't. Her disease did. That's not your fault."

He reached up to grab her hand. "I know that, logically. But I can't seem to make myself believe it."

"Well, you'd better." Impulsively, she leaned down to press a kiss against his forehead. To her amazement, he gave a small smile in return. "'Cause if you don't make yourself believe it, it'll be up to me. And trust me, you won't like my methods."

His gaze turned to the floor, all traces of a smile gone. "Thanks, Garcia. I – I really needed that." Without another word, he stood up and headed for the door.

"Reid!"

"What?"

"Mind explaining this?" She made a wild gesture in the general direction of her computer monitors.

He frowned. "Oh. Just something I noticed. They all at one point or another had the same physician who prescribed them antidepressants. It might be nothing, but you might want to alert the others anyway."

She stared at the screens before her. "Huh. Totally didn't catch that. Good eye, Reid."

"See you later, Garcia."

"Later, sweetcheeks. Oh, hey, Reid?" Gimme a call in a couple days or so when you're feeling better and we'll hit the town, just you and me. 'Kay?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes."

He chuckled, catching them both off guard. "Yes, Supreme Goddess. I'll see you in a few days."

"'Bye."


	20. Prompt 96: Author's Choice: Wrong

A/N: I should be shot for this. Came to me while I was listening to Weird Al (obviously) 

**Prompt 96: Writer's Choice – Wrong** (Reid, Garcia, and Morgan)

"Garcia, this song is horrible!"

"What?! No, it's not. You just don't have any taste."

"Trust me, I have plenty of taste. Chopin, Beethoven, even Don Mclean and the Eagles – that's good music. This? This is just the half-psychotic ramblings of a very disturbed man."

Mock indignation. "How can you say that? Weird Al is a genius."

"Define genius."

"Alright, he might not have an eidetic memory, a bajillion-point IQ, and the ability to read a million words per minute, but he's at least very entertaining."

"Define entertaining."

"Very funny, smarty-pants. You just don't like him because you know he's right."

"Garcia, that song doesn't even make any sense. There is no logical basis to it whatsoever –"

"That's the beauty of it, Reid. There doesn't have to be."

"The floating disembodied head of Colonel Sanders? Are you kidding me?"

"Does this mean you're not gonna give any of his other songs a chance?"

A new voice. "What are you two arguing about now?"

"Reid doesn't like Weird Al."

"What? Man, he's got some really great songs."

"I think it has something to do with the song I played for him. I'm sorry, but I heard it, and it just screamed 'Reid' to me."

"What song was it?"

"'Everything You Know Is Wrong."


	21. Prompt 77: What?

A/N: Meh. 

**Prompt 77: What?** (Reid and Emily speaking, Reid/? Pairing)

"Reid, what is that?"

"What is what?" Not bothering to look up, trying to concentrate on his paperwork.

"This." Her voice suddenly right in his ear; apparently she had already finished _her_ work. Her cool hands soothed abused skin he hadn't even realized was sore.

Freezes at her touch. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Emily." Oh god, please don't let her –

"This bruise back here." Damn it.

"Mystery solved, it's a bruise. Don't you have a report to write?"

"Well, I _know_ it's a bruise. What I mean is, how did you get it? If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was a hickey." A look of horror must have passes across his face because she added, "_Is_ it a hickey?"

"No! It's just…. When I got into bed last night, I misjudged the distance between myself and the headboard." Oh, he was going to kill his lover, no doubt about it. He had been promised that none of the marks would show – obviously there'd been a mistake.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a terrible liar?"

"Not when it counts." Out of the corner of his eye he could see his lover watching them, wearing a completely straight face – yup, dead meat for sure. "Didn't anyone tell you about the time Elle was held hostage on a train in Texas?"

Sure enough, the mention of the ex-profiler did the trick. She let go of his neck with a mumbled "Just worried about you" and returned to her own desk. Just before she sat down, however, she looked back at him. "You know, you could have said Morgan was helping you improve your hand-to-hand skills. _That_ I would have believed."


	22. Prompt 76: Who?

A/N: Obviously a sequel to "What?" 

**Prompt 76: Who?** (Reid and JJ speaking, Reid/? pairing)

"C'mon Reid, you know you can tell me anything. Who gave you that hickey?" Later in the day, in the breakroom.

"Who even said it was a hickey?"

"Emily."

"JJ, she's wrong. It's just a bruise."

"Yeah, she also told me how you supposedly _got_ the bruise. Trust me, I know a hickey when I see it. So, who gave it to you?"

At a loss, he tried to turn the tables. "Jealous?"

She smiled. "Not really. I mean, I wasn't jealous when Lila Archer – oh my god, it was her, wasn't it? You two have been secretly seeing each other all this time, haven't you?"

"No, for your information, it wasn't and we have not."

"Was it somebody I know?"

"JJ…."

"Ah ha! It was. You know, for a profiler, you're surprisingly easy to read.

Grabbed his mug. "I'm outta here."

"Hey, Reid! Was it Morgan?"

"_No_, JJ." Walking down the hall, shaking his head, he almost missed his lover as the other stood, apparently waiting for him.

"The girls still giving you a hard time?"

"Yes." An unconvincing glare. "This is all your fault. If you had told me this morning that there was a mark back there…."

He shrugged easily. "I missed one. I was more focused on other parts of your body. Forgot I even put one there."

Sighed. "Well, if you're going to be like that about it…."

"I am. Does this mean I'm not coming over tonight?"

Another sigh, more exaggerated than real. "I suppose you can still come over."

"Good. I'll be there around eight." He started to walk off, but stopped. Oh, and Spencer?"

"Yeah?"

"This time I'll try not to knock your head against the headboard."

He couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks, Jason."

End note: I almost considered making it Hotch. Almost.


	23. Prompt 85: She

A/N: Anyone else think Morgan and Prentiss are getting a little too close? Takes place after "Open Season"

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

**Prompt 85: She** (Reid/Morgan)

"Look, all I'm saying is that I think you're getting a little to friendly with her, okay?"

"No, not okay. She's our coworker. So what if I'm nice to her? It's about time somebody around here is."

"She doesn't belong here. I don't care what she says, I don't think she earned her way onto this team. Her mother –"

"Her mother has nothing to do with it. And if she does, Emily doesn't know about it."

"Just because _Emily_ doesn't know about it doesn't mean that it didn't happen."

"I don't even see what your problem with her is, anyway. She told me about the shit you been saying to her, you know. About how you told her she doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Oh, so now you're talking about me behind my back? What did you tell her in return? Did you mention all the things we do together when we're alone? Did she want to hear all the gory little details?"

"Reid, what the fuck?! Of course I didn't tell her all that shit. I told her we've become pretty good friends since you got to know me better, and that she needs to just ride it out and you'll come around."

"And when did you become such an expert on my feelings?"

"Uh, I think that was around the time I started fucking you, yeah?"

"Just because you're 'fucking' me, does _not_ mean that you understand what I feel. Time is not going to change how I feel about Prentiss, so you can just forget that idea."

"Reid, what is this really about? This isn't about Emily, this is about something bigger, I can just tell. Are you using again?"

"What?! Of course not, why would you even think – Hey, let go of my arm!"

"I'm just making sure, man. I helped you get off that shit, there's no way I'mma let you start it up again."

"Are you satisfied, _Dad_?"

"Not until you tell me what's really bothering you. Okay, it's not drugs. So….it's something about Emily, but I really don't think it's Emily herself. Or my being friendly toward her. Is it about Elle?"

"No, Morgan. I've already told you I'm past all that guilt and everything."

"I'm at a loss here, man. Help me out. If you can't tell me what's the matter, I can't do anything to fix it."

"Not that you would anyway."

"Of course I would. Hey, don't give me that. You know I care about you; I'd do almost anything for you. Short of killing Emily, that is."

"That's not even funny."

"Just trying to get you to smile. You gonna tell me, or do I gotta beat it outta you?"

"You'll think I'm being ridiculous."

"Tell me anyway." Grabs his shoulder, holding on tightly.

Something flickers in Reid's eyes as he opens his mouth. Closes it again, looks away. "I just…. I really don't trust her. I don't think she's ready for what we do, and I think she's going to leave us, one way or another, just like Elle. I don't think it's worth it to get to know her only to be hurt when she goes."

"That it?" No, Morgan knows that's not really it. He saw those flashes of pain, insecurity, and fear before the younger man averted his eyes. He lets the scrawny shoulder go, doesn't say anything as the young genius makes his excuses, escapes. So the boy is jealous? Well, Morgan would just have to take extra time in assuring his young lover that he really is the only person in the older man's life.


	24. Prompt 71: Broken

A/N: Based on an experience that happened to me when I was pretty little. ) The book I found when doing a random search of in the Gay/Lesbian section. D 

**Prompt 71: Broken **(Morgan/Reid)

"Owwww! Morgan, that _hurts_!"

"Well, man, congratulations. It's broken."

"No, really?"

"Sarcasm is not sexy, Reid. How the hell did you manage to get your finger caught in a mousetrap, exactly?"

"I was feeling around in the cupboard, looking for my favourite mug that seems to have disappeared."

"I put it in the dishwasher. But tell me, what exactly were your eyes doing instead of watching your hands?"

Sheepishly. "Uhhh, I was…reading."

"Reading? Don't you ever get tired of that?"

"No."

"What were you so engrossed in that you couldn't be bothered to watch out for mousetraps?"

"That's really not important."

"Lemme see the book."

"Morgan…."

"_The Gay Man's Kama Sutra_, Reid? Are you kidding me? Don't you get enough real life action with me around?"

"I just thought maybe it'd…make it more interesting."

Loud laughter filled the apartment. "Well, what say we take care of this finger then see if we can…'make it more interesting?'"

Impishly. "Oh, I don't know, Derek. With me incapacitated like this, I'm not sure I'll be up to much."

"We'll see if we can't remedy that, hey." Low and seductive words, breathed right in his ear, making him shudder.

"I know a position we can try, if you're up for it."

"Always. Think we should make a stop at the hospital first?"

"Spoilsport."

A long-suffering sigh of resignation. "Get in the car."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and there won't be very many people there."

"Oh, trust me; we'll both get lucky tonight."

"Shut up, you. The last thing I need is a hard-on in the emergency room."

"Now who's the spoilsport?"

End

Endnote: Cookies for whoever knows where I got the line "Sarcasm isn't sexy."


	25. Prompt 84: He

A/N: I apologize in advance 

**Prompt 84: He**

"Who the hell was that?" A dark scowl met the younger man as he took his seat next to his lover in the booth at the back of the bar.

"Who was who?" Slightly breathless, he smiled genuine innocence at the older man.

"Don't fuck with me, Spencer. You don't usually chat up guys at bars. In fact, I usually have to drag your ass out of your little hideaway booth. Who – was – that?"

"Oh, him? Turns out he lives in the same building as me. His name's Jimmy and he works for the navy. Well, not really. He's just an intern, he assists the medical examiner for the Navy Criminal Investigative Service, you know NCIS, and he's getting his PhD in medicine. We were talk-"

"Whoa, whoa, back up. You live in the same building, and he just happened to recognize you? When are you ever even _in_ your building?"

"What do you mean? He remembered me because he heard rumors about me. Wanted to meet me."

"So…what? He followed you here?"

"No, of course not. It was completely coincidental. He…. Morgan, are you jealous?" Not quite smirking, but definitely amused.

"Don't be an idiot. I'm not jealous, just concerned."

"Concerned that some other guy might be making a move on your man?" Heading for full out laughter now.

"_No_, concerned that he might be stalking you."

"And people say I'm a bad liar."

"Hey." A hand on his bony wrist; the intensity wipes the grin off his face. "Hear me now, I ain't jealous. I'm just looking out for you."

"Okay, yeah sure. I get that." The smirk comes back. "Of course, I can think of several ways to make you believe that I really am devoted to you and only you."

Torn between denial and intrigue. "Oh? Not that I need the assurance, but what did you have in mind?"

When Jimmy next glances in their direction, they're nowhere to be seen.


	26. Prompt 93: Thanksgiving

A/N: I have no clue about Reid's eating habits (other than that he can't use chopsticks) so instead I have substituted my own feelings about Thanksgiving. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own them, Sam-I-Am, I do not own Reid and Morgan.

**Prompt 93: Thanksgiving** (Morgan/Reid)

"Hey, what are your plans for Thursday?"

The young genius looked up to see his lover watching him expectantly. "No plans."

"Good, that means you can come with me."

"Come with you where?"

"Home. You know, for Thanksgiving." Gave him an disbelieving look. "Don't tell me you forgot."

"Thanksgiving's this week?"

A dramatic sigh. "Yes, and you just got yourself invited to the Morgan household Thanksgiving extravaganza."

"Thanks but no thanks. Just because I don't have any plans does not mean I want to go half way across the country to celebrate a holiday that I don't even like."

"What's not to like about Thanksgiving?"

"You mean other than the fact that it is a holiday that celebrates the exploitation of Native Americans?"

"Yeah, other than that."

"You've seen me at all-you-can-eat buffets. Big meals really aren't my thing." He turned back to his paperwork, about to let it go at that, but apparently changed his mind as he lifted his head once more. "Then there's the food itself. I've never like cranberries, or stuffing, or sweet potatoes; I used to love turkey, but after countless leftovers meals, just the smell of a cooking turkey makes me nauseous; I'll only eat pumpkin pie if it's slathered with whipped cream, and only if it's real pumpkin, not canned. That leaves me with mashed potatoes, corn, and possibly a few other veggies. Thanksgiving really isn't a holiday made for picky eaters. Not to mention Thanksgiving is a time for family, which means lots of people crammed into small spaces, watching football, and all that stuff I try to avoid on most occasions. Plus, it's the day before Black Friday, which is another day I try to forget about each year. So…thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather not insult your mother with my…habits.

The older man looked increasingly incredulous throughout his lover's spiel, but finally raised his hands in defeat. "Alright, fine. You don't have to come. I just thought it would be a good opportunity for you to meet my family."

"I've already met your family. Immediate family, anyway."

"Yeah, but back then I didn't get to introduce you as my lover."

Reid's eyes grew wide as realization set in. He glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to them, before smiling at his partner. "Oh. Well, in that case, I think I if I just fast for the next couple of days, I'll be so hungry I won't care what I eat, and I'll be able to put away quite a bit."

Morgan laughed. "That's my genius – always the problem solver."


	27. Prompt 51: Water

A/N: Everything you never wanted to know about water.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

**Prompt 51: Water** (Reid and Morgan)

"Water. H2O – called such because it consists of two hydrogen molecules and one oxygen molecule. Approximately seventy-five percent of the earth is covered in water, and ninety-seven –"

"Reid –"

"- percent of that is contained in the oceans, leaving only three percent of the world's water as fresh water. About seventy-five percent of that fresh water is currently frozen in the polar ice caps, leave twenty-five percent of that three percent as ground water, river water, or lake water."

"Reid…"

"The average person in the U.S. uses about eighty to one hundred gallons of water each day. That is a huge amount compared to medieval times when a person would only use about five gallons each day. I mean, it takes two whole gallons of water just to brush your teeth, and –"

"_Reid._"

"- between two to seven gallons to flush a toilet, depending on if it's a water-saving toilet or not. There are almost eight _hundred _different brands of bottled water for sale in the United States. Oh, and did you know that if you drop a frog into boiling water, it will jump right out, but if you put it in cold water and heat it, the frog will boil to death?"

"_Reid!_"

"What?"

"Shut up and help me fix this leak already!"

-End

Where I got my fun facts:


	28. Prompt 46: Star

A/N: This one is pretty long, but then it's supposed to be. I've changed my style a little bit, added more "background" stuff rather than just spoken words and emotions.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

**Prompt 46: Star** (Reid and Morgan)

Morgan found him, as promised, on the rooftop of the young genius' apartment. He moved carefully, not wanting to startle Reid, who was lying on his back, watching the evening sky as it swiftly faded to night. He studied the young man for several beats; he had changed from his usual geeky attire into a more comfortable jeans-and-sweatshirt outfit. He had arranged himself on a worn, grey blanket that was barely long enough to protect his lanky body from the cold cement of the roof, and had spread his arms out in a crucifictional pose. Morgan considered, briefly, leaving the genius to his thoughts, but remembered why he had come. "Reid?"

Without looking, the young man replied, "How did you find me up here?"

"Your landlord told me you'd be up here."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you."

"If there's a new case, you should have just called me. I would have come as quickly as possible."

"There's not a new case."

"Then why are you here?"

"I just told you."

His eyes roamed everywhere, anywhere but at the man who had by this point plopped down to sit next to him, parallel to his body to afford at least a small sense of privacy. "You've never just come to see me before."

"It's different now."

"How?" Reid demanded, angry. "How exactly is it different now?"

Morgan, on the other hand, refused to be baited. "I wanted to make sure you're okay. I didn't press the issue on the plane, but it was pretty obvious you hadn't said all that you wanted to say. I didn't want to embarrass you further, since you made it clear my even asking if you're okay in front of the others is off limits."

"I'm fine. The last thing I need right now is to talk to somebody."

"No, the last thing you need right now is to be alone."

All fight seemed to leave Reid's expression and body. He folded his arms across his chest, and Morgan took this as an invitation to lie down next to him, leaving a careful distance between their bodies. "I'm not ready to talk yet. If I give you my assurance that when I am ready, I will find somebody who will listen, will you be satisfied?"

"No," he answered honestly. "But it'll have to do. You know I could be that person, no matter what. Whenever you need an ear, I'm only a phone call away." Chuckled. "That sounded pretty lame, didn't it?"

Even Reid can't help but smile. "Yeah, but from you, I wouldn't expect anything but."

Morgan laughed at that; feeling the mood lightening, he took a chance. "Why do you come up here, anyway?"

"Usually just to get away from everything. I do a lot of writing up here. Sometimes I come up here to write to my mom, or I put down some of my thoughts, or I actually try to write some of my own stories. I was never really good at creative writing, but my mom always encouraged me to keep trying, and it's a pretty good outlet for some of what I'm feeling, especially after a tough case. Or sometimes I draw, or I read."

"What were you doing before I came up here?"

"Just…thinking. About everything that's been going on lately." He turned his head and for the first time that evening met his coworker's eyes dead on. Morgan found himself immediately lost in the depths of hurt, anger, sorrow, fear, and pure anguish he saw therein. "When you were little, did you ever wish on a star?"

"Like a shooting star, or like 'starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight'?"

"Either."

"Yeah, I did. I remember this one time, my mom took me out to my grandmother's place, way out past the outskirts of Chicago, where it was so lighted and we could see the stars real well; that was the first time I saw a shooting star, and I wished for a new bike. I was….jeez, I think I musta been around six or seven."

"Did your wish come true?" By now night had truly fallen, though the stars were mostly obscured by the city atmosphere.

"Nah. But that didn't stop me from keeping on trying."

"If you could make any one wish right now, what would it be."

He stayed silent for several minutes, until Reid was about to give up and tell him never mind. At last, he said, "Any wish at all, I think I would go for the most obvious, that there would be no need for people like us. That there weren't psychos out there who hurt and kill other people, but then I'd be out of a job. I could wish for world peace, but that's more than impossible. I guess, right now, at this very moment in time, I would wish that you didn't feel that you need to go through this ordeal on your own, that you would realize we – meaning me – are here to help you, and _want_ to help you."

"I think your wish will come true, just not yet."

"That's fine. I can be fairly patient if I have to be."

"Oh? Then why do you always seem to have this overwhelming desire to tackle the closest person?"

"Alright, smartass. I see you're feeling better. Tell me, what would you wish for, if you were to wish on a star right now."

"I already did. I can't tell you now, or it won't come true."

"Oh, no. Come on, fair's fair. Fess up."

It was Reid's turn to be silent this time. After a minute or two, his throat and mouth worked, but no sound came out. At last he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "Will you stay the night with me? I know it's a lot to ask, but I can't stop having these nightmares, and I just… I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have asked…."

"Kid, don't apologize for what you want or need. I'd be happy to stay the night, I still got my overnight bag in my car. I'll just bring it up, 'kay?"

The smile is sad and regretful. "Thank you. I don't really have a guest room, but I can make my bed up for you, and I'll sleep on the couch."

"Don't even think it. Sounds like you need a really good night's sleep, and you're not gonna get it on your couch. I'll take the couch, you keep your bed. This is about you, remember, not me."

Reid got up slowly, offered a hand down to his comrade. Both were shivering slightly from the cold night air, but neither seemed to notice as they folded up the blanket and headed inside, each taking one last glance out at what little of the night sky could be seen. One small handful of stars were bright enough to shine through the city lights, and Morgan thought that with strength like that, those stars could grant any wish to any person. It would just take a little bit of time.


	29. Prompt 50: Club

A/N: This was written before I began work on the drabbles, but thought I'd post it anyway, since it fits. I'm not sure I like how it turned out, but there you are. I think the problem is that it makes absolutely no sense. And yes I made up the words sexwonderful and dancesex. 

**Prompt 49: Club** (Reid/Morgan)

A hot tangled writhing twisting,  
Bumping grinding slick and sliding  
mass of undulating human bodies contained  
in an impossibly small area.  
He is lost and found here,  
willingly coerced,  
into this madness deemed "normal."

What is normal?  
Not him, this geeky awkward  
clumsy uncoordinated shy unusual man,  
frighteningly smart (so incredibly stupid)  
His companion –  
suave smooth graceful gorgeous  
intelligent ladies' man (every woman's dream) –  
is this how everyone is?  
(Anomaly)

A hand on his shoulder –  
urging, encouraging –  
and they are in the midst of that writhing mass.  
Trapped now, no way out.  
Surrounded by so much pulsating energy  
(move with the flow, the music)  
Hands moved to hips –  
left to right, right to left –  
guiding, instructing,  
slightest touch electric.

Sway, grind in time, listen to the beat.  
(Now you've got it – there you go)  
Time is speeding up, or perhaps it is  
the music  
Or perhaps it is the sheer joy of the touch  
of this man.  
Socialization-education  
gone horribly wrong  
Experiment – oh yes, he would like to experiment  
(Let yourself go, nobody is watching you)  
Nobody to judge, evaluate.  
So incredibly tempting  
to just give in to his desires.

Mind gone, flying high on this beautiful ecstasy.  
He is (not) thinking  
relying purely on instinct,  
focusing on feel, on touch, on movement  
of hips, hands, feet, shoulders,  
lips – as his companion's whisper-scream instructions  
(feel the beat, let it flow through you)

They are so close, so close, so intimate,  
so far away.  
Bodies pressing on every side  
mashing them together  
Yet the other keeps his distance-  
turns him around so that they are back to front, front to back  
and he now has full view of the crowd surrounding them  
(That's it, now you're ready)  
and lets go of the hips.  
No contact  
Panic  
Clutching back toward those safe arms

Unsafe  
On the edge, teetering toward utter devastation  
Domination  
God, don't let this ever stop  
Arms wrapped around him now  
grinding, grinding  
Laughter in his ear, encircling him, drowning out the music  
(I've got you, kid. I won't let go till you're ready)  
Will he ever be?  
Stay here, stay now,  
don't ever stop.

Dancing, writhing, sexwonderful  
and he's high, high, flying  
hard  
God, so hard  
Pushes backward, grinding harder, hears the moan  
(_Yes_)  
Oh, Jesus, yes.  
Wanting, wanted  
Innocence turned corrupt  
turned to heavenly devilishness  
(Tell me what you want)  
Gasping, panting, get the fuck _off_ the dancefloor  
Your place or mine?  
But not going anywhere  
Oh, no, gonna ride this out  
this storm inside – Dancesex  
too wonderful  
Stay, stay, staystaystaystayTOOMUCH

Gone.


	30. Prompt 11: Red

Disclaimer: See chapter 1 

**Prompt 11: Red** (Reid/Morgan)

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"Stop laughing at me, I really do hate you this time."

"What did I do?"

"You dragged me to the beach. Not only did you drag me to the beach, but you insisted I take off my shirt while we were there, so that I was only wearing my swim trunks, which in itself is something I hate, and it all resulted in my looking like a fresh lobster."

"Well, it certainly fits with the beach theme."

"Will you be serious for five minutes? I'm in _pain_. My entire back is probably going to _blister_, and all you can do is – is _chuckle_ at my predicament."

"Alright, alright, calm down. It's not that big of a deal."

"Not that big of a deal? Tell that to my aching back!"

"Would you stop being such a drama queen? Let's take a look at it. There, see? It's not so bad."

"Maybe not for you, but I, for one, will not be able to lie on my back for at least a week."

"…A week? You can't be serious."

"Yes, I'm serious. And because I'm in such pain, I don't think it would be wise for me to stay over at all while I'm in this condition. It'd be far too painful."

"Now you're just being mean."

"They say payback's a bitch."

"Smug doesn't suit you, Genius Boy."

"Well, neither does a burnt back, but it's still there, isn't it?"

"Okay, I'll make you a deal: if I put lotion on your back and give you a full rubdown, will you stop complaining?"

"That depends on how good the rubdown is."

"Trust me; it'll be so good you won't be _able_ to stay away from me all week."


	31. Prompt 27: Parents

A/N: Those sections underlined are actually supposed to be striked through, but apparently ffnet doesn't do strike throughs -grumble- So just pretend, or go here to read it properly: www (dot) community (dot) livejournal (dot) com (slash) bau (underscore) fic (slash) 164237 (dot) html (number sign) cutid1

cookies for whomever can name the X-Files episode mentioned. Hint: it's in season five

**Prompt 27: Parents** (Reid/Morgan)

_Dear Mom,_

_As I write to you, I am sitting at my desk in my room. An old Star Trek episode is playing on the television in the living room, turned up so that I can here it from here. It's on the Sci-Fi channel, and the X-Files is on next. Do you remember my colleague Agent Morgan? He likes the X-files, says it sheds the FBI in a new light, and he thinks it's hilarious._

_Things at work have been pretty hectic, but they seem to be slowing down, finally. Looks like Agent Hotchner will be keeping his job after all, but I'm afraid of what this whole debacle has done to his marriage. I saw Mrs. Hotchner the other day and she looks tired, frustrated, and stressed out. I worry for Hotch; if he loses his wife and son in the prcess of saving his career, I can't even imagine how he would react. I think he'd let it eat away at him until he cracks._

_Anyway, because things have been so stressful, Agent Gideon thinks it would be good – since we still won't be taking on new cases until __The Powers that Be__ our supervisors are wholly satisfied that Hotch is competent – for a few of us to take a one-week vacation. __I was thinking... __I wanted__ I really do wish that I could come visit you, but __I'm a little worried about what happened the last time I tried that __my private life has been almost as crazy as my professional life lately, and I have a few things I need to sort out. __I got myself a girlfriend ... I ...Agent Morgan and I ...There's this coworker ...I have a lover... Remember when I told you that Ethan and I were 'really good friends' ...Would you be mad at me if I told you I am gay????? ARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!_

With a sigh, Reid set the pen down, listening as Mulder and Scully argued about the local detective's buck teeth. "Morgan?"

"What's up? How's the letter coming?"

"It's not. How would you like to spend our week in Las Vegas?"


	32. Prompt 82: If

A/N: In celebration of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, which I saw on Friday. Great movie; sorry for OoCness.

**Prompt 82: If** (Reid/Morgan)

"Hey, Reid. Hotch wants to know if you've got that report finished yet."

"Yar."

Morgan froze. Turned a disbelieving eye on his colleague. "Excuse me?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you just say?"

"Yar, matey?"

"I must be missing something here."

"It's national Talk like a Pirate Day. Garcia's doing it, too."

"You sound like a complete idiot."

"Aye, but a piratey idiot I be." Complete with deep, harsh voice unbefitting for the scrawny genius.

"You've officially gone around the bend."

"Aye."

"Completely loony tunes."

"Arrr, to be sure."

He resisted the urge to bang his head against the desk. "Is there anything I can say to make you knock that off?"

He actually paused to consider this. "How about 'dinner at my place, seven o'clock'?"

"Dinner at my place, make it eight. I have a few errands to run after work."

"Yar, supper at yer place sounds good."

Exasperated, "I thought you said you'd stop."

"I did. Until I realized this is the perfect" a pause for dramatic effect "leverage."

"That's it. No more Jack Sparrow for you."

"Alright, I'll stop. How dare you threaten to take away my Johnny Depp?"

"You would like a swishy pirate, wouldn't you?"

"Is that an offer?"

"_Hell_ no. If I won't give Garcia her chaps dream, what makes you think I'd give you your pirate fantasy?"

"I have better puppy-dog eyes."

"Not gonna work this time, kid."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"_No!_"

Reid carefully checked to make sure nobody was paying attention to him before he stealthily walked over to his lover's desk, leaned over, and whispered something seductively into his ear.

Morgan's eyes widened. "You'd do that?"

"Only if you dress up like a pirate."

"Well, maybe I could swing an eye patch…."


	33. Prompt 16: Purple

A/N: 100 words exactly, so it's a little strangely worded... But my beta and I were discussing it, and decided that Morgan is definitely the type to own a motorcycle. So in my 'verse, he bought the bike for himself as a birthday present, and Reid bought the accessory. Also, I have been lost to the PotC fandom (specifically Jack Sparrow/James Norrington), so don't be surprised when I don't update for a while.

**Prompt 16: Purple **(Reid/Morgan)

A brand new motorcycle helmet for his brand new motorcycle peeked out of the box. "It's purple."

Reid's smile dropped into a frown. "You don't like it."

"It's purple."

"I just thought… you know, it'd be kind of an inside joke. Since purple is supposed to mean gay…." His voice trailed off. "Ah, never mind. I'll just take it back."

"No, I like it. Just why purple? Have you ever seen me wear _anything_ purple before?"

"Well, no. It was either this or pink. I figured rainbow-coloured wouldn't be wise."

Morgan stared at him. "Purple it is, then. Thanks, Spencer."


	34. Prompt 62: Spring

A/N: Omg, I updated. Maybe if I keep saying "don't expect a lot from me for a while" I'll get more inspirations. D Originally featured fresh apple pie, but I was told that was a "major discrepancy" so I changed it. Why no, I'm not bitter at all, why do you ask?

Warning: it's a slashy one, but barely. R and M living together, and a few brief mentions of them being lovers.

**Prompt 62: Spring** (Morgan/Reid)

"Spring is finally here," Morgan commented as he settled on the couch next to Reid, allowing his young lover to cuddle up close, contented.

"Yuck" was the artfully crafted reply.

"It was a pretty hard winter. I thought you'd be glad for spring to arrive."

"Too rainy. I just want summer to be here and be done with it."

"Be patient, Mister Vegas. I don't want it to be summer yet, it's too hot."

"Heat good, rain bad." God he was sexy when he reduced himself to caveman grunts.

"I'm sure if you think really hard you can come up with some reason why you like spring."

Reid's eyebrows furrowed as he gave such serious thought to such a trivial matter (but then, to him, everything deserved serious thought). His face lit up with delight as he said, "When the birds return from migration and whatnot, and they sit out in the trees outside our apartment and sing to each other. Especially that cardinal that keeps building her nest right outside our window."

"There you go. Hmmm, how about pretty flowers growing next to the sidewalks."

"Easter candy."

"I thought you aren't religious."

"Doesn't stop me from loving candy."

A warm chuckle. "True. How about….being able to sleep nude without my lover buried under fifteen blankets."

"Flying kites at the park when it's not raining."

"Freshly mown grass."

The younger man's face positively glowed as he remembered…. "Watching a shirtless Hotch mow his lawn."

"Excuse me?!"

"I said, watching-"

"No, I heard what you said. When, exactly, did you get the chance to watch Hotch mow his lawn? Shirtless."

Reid can't help but grin impishly. "Last year. I went over to his house to go over some stuff about the case we had just been on, I don't remember which one, but he was…busy, to say the least. Haley was kind enough to give me some iced tea and let me hang out in the living room until he was finished. I just happened to have a seat with a…great view."

Morgan shook his head wordlessly for several moments before he found his voice. "You are such a pervert."

"And you love it."

"I ain't denyin' it, just sayin'. Anything else I should be knowin' about?"

He gave this careful consideration. "Well, I went over to Jason's once for dinner, and I'll tell you he has an interesting fascination with food. For about a month afterwards, I kept having these fantasies that involved-"

"No. I don't even want to hear it."

Reid laughed and got up. "Be right back, I need more coffee." As he disappeared into the kitchen, he could have sworn he heard his lover mutter something about socially repressed, perverted geniuses.


	35. Prompt 78: Where?

A/N: Uhhhh, nope? Been awhile, guys, hope you enjoy this. Exactly 100 words.

**Prompt 78: Where?**

He almost had it all figured out. Granted, it was a fairly simple case, and he was a "genius," but sometimes even he got stumped. _Think outside the box_ indeed. The only thing that was eluding him was the _where_. If he could just figure that bit out, it would all make sense. He had all the pieces, even if they had not been directly handed to him (after all, he wasn't a profiler for nothing). Now if only he could make them fit –

Eyes lit up. "Aha!"

"Well?"

"I accuse Professor Plum in the library with the wrench."


	36. Prompt 42: Triangle

A/N: This is what happens when I'm running on no sleep and am trying to procrastinate on my other ficlets (of which I have four unfinished). Morgan-as-as-bloodhound. I'm telling you.

Warning: Uhhhhh, severe crack? Anyway, I guess it's sorta slashy, for those who insist I need to warn people better.

**Prompt 42: Triangle** (Reid and Morgan)

"No way."

"Way."

"No. I mean – no! How could you even think – why – how – I always knew that little genius brain of yours was twisted, but that…that is just beyond twisted. That's worse than anything Garcia could have come up with, and trust me, she's come up with a lot of crazy shit."

"Think about it-"

"I'd really rather not."

"- the way they act towards each other, those little looks they share when they think no one else is looking –"

"Okay, now you're just making stuff up."

"I'm telling you, it's true. It's gotta be. Just use your profiling skills, and you'll come to the same conclusion."

"You're messed up, man. There is no way Hotch, Haley, and _Gideon_ are caught in some freaky love triangle. Gideon is _not_ in love with Hotch. Period. End of discussion."

"……Alright, you're right. No freaky love triangle."

"Thank you."

"It's totally a ménage a trios."

"NO!"

End.


	37. Prompt 65: Passing

A/N: I'm sorry. I felt like writing angst, and this is what happened. WARNING SLASH AND CHARACTER DEATH. At least he doesn't die from AIDS like I'd originally planned.

**Prompt 65: Passing** (Reid/Morgan)

"What's it like?" The dry croak is so unlike Morgan's usually smooth tone that Reid actually winces to hear it.

"What's what like?" Innocence seems a good card to play, and maybe in his current state, Morgan will give up the subject.

No such luck. "You know."

Reid sighs. A voice in his head that sounds ever-so-much like Gideon's tells him to refuse to answer the question, tell him it's not his time to find out yet, but he knows he cannot fool either himself or his partner – they knew this would come eventually. "I expect it's different for everyone. Elle told me once that it was like a dream in which she was traveling somewhere, only she didn't know where. She thought she was on a plane or a train or something, and her father was there, talking to her. She said it was her father who persuaded her to return."

For a moment, the older man seems distracted. "When did she tell you this? That night you guys talked in her hotel room?"

He shifts in his seat. "No. It was after…Georgia. Remember I told you I sort of kept in touch with her? After….just, after….I was looking for…I guess clarification of some sort. Anyway, we started talking about death somehow, and….well, there you are." He gives a grim half-smile.

Morgan is quiet for awhile as he processes this. Just when the genius thinks he very well may have fallen back asleep, he speaks again. "What about for you? What was it like when Henkel almost killed you?"

A small shake of his head. "There's no 'almost' about it; I was dead. It was like…. Well, I don't remember the details now; it's been a few years. But I don't remember the surroundings so much as the feelings. I felt like I was just within reach of some ultimate knowledge – I guess the truth of human existence or whatever – and if only I could just reach a bit further, I'd know…everything? I'm not really sure. Just….like, there wouldn't be anything left to learn, and it'd be alright to die." He pauses, frustrated. "That doesn't make sense."

"No," his companion murmurs. "Coming from you, that makes perfect sense." He grimaces as pain courses through his body. "What d'you suppose it'll be like for me?"

"I don't know."

"D'you think it'll stop hurting?"

"I have no doubt. I felt comfortable for the first time in what seemed like forever. Though I can't imagine I went through half what you've been suffering through." And then because he has to know, masochist that he is, "How long?"

"Not very." His breath is becoming shorter, and Reid knows he should want his lover to fight this, but….he, too, just wants the pain to be done. Even though it means…. "I feel so weak." Yet he manages to crack a smile. "I guess this is where I do the whole last dying wishes bit."

The other's smile is strained and wet (when had he started crying? He'd thought himself all out of tears), but present nonetheless. "Not if you don't want to. You don't want this to turn into a cheesy soap opera, do you?"

"No, I suppose not." Eyes turn serious. "I love you, you know."

"I know. I love you, too."

Morgan closes his eyes. "Bone cancer. Who'd've thought?" Reid hadn't thought it possible for his voice to get even quieter, but he finds himself having to lean over the bed to hear."

"Not Garcia, that's for sure. She was certain after you tackled that van that you'd tussle with something way to big for you, like a jet or something, and end up getting run over. Gideon always thought your overly heroic nature would get you shot or blown up. I, personally, was holding out for old age."

"Stay with me?"

"Always."


	38. Prompt 72: Fixed

A/N: A sequel of sorts to Prompt 51: Water. Not necessary to read first, but will probably make more sense if you do.

**Prompt 72: Fixed** (Morgan/Reid)

"There you go, all fixed."

Reid pauses in his continuous stream of facts about water. "Already? Wow, you're better than my handyman."

Morgan snorts. "I'll keep that in mind if this FBI gig ever falls through. Mind helping me up?"

Complying, "Cheaper, too."

"I'm all wet."

"It's a good look for you."

"Ya know, I didn't have to fix that leak for you. I could've just left you to deal with it on your own."

"But you wouldn't have. The leak is entirely your fault, anyway, and you know it as well as I do."

"Oh? I fail to follow your logic."

"Sure. I mean, that pipe didn't start leaking until after you started staying the night here occasionally, so naturally whatever caused it must be of your doing."

Morgan stares. "And that's your expert, genius opinion?"

"Hardly expert, but yes, that is my 'genius' opinion."

"Well, you have a scientific, analytical mind. You know the only reasonable option, don't you?"

"What's that?"

"We have to form a scientific experiment in order to qualify or disqualify your hypothesis. So what I'll do is I'll stop coming around and staying the night, and then if the leak doesn't reappear, I'll try coming around again in a couple of months or so, and see if it does then."

"A couple of – what – but – Morgan? Derek? I didn't mean it, okay? The leak wasn't your fault! I was just teasing."

Chuckling, "But of course, this experiment won't keep you from coming over to my place."

Dumbfounded, Reid pauses. "Ah. I knew that."


	39. Prompt 86: Choices

**

* * *

** (Reid and Morgan) 

"It's bound to happen one way or another."

"I know."

"He's no good for you."

"I know."

"I've seen the bruises."

"I know."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"…I don't know."

"I'm here for you, no matter what you choose." Simple words, hidden confession.

"I know." Profound understanding.

* * *

(I can hear my readers now: "I waited for an update for two months for _this?_" Deepest apologies, guys, but my creative writing teacher keeps telling us to write what comes to mind, no matter what. And this is what came to mind. Morgan and Reid are both just as pissed as you, but maybe the new season will bring better ideas?) 


	40. Prompt 56: Breakfast

**A/N: **Uhhhh, none? Enjoy!

Warnings: Slash, implied abuse of pancakes and whipped cream.

**Prompt 56: Breakfast** (Reid/Morgan)

"Good morning."

Reid struggles awake through the fog still surrounding his mind, turning to face his bedmate. "It wasn't a dream."

Morgan laughs. "No, 'fraid not."

A smile and a whispered, "I'm glad."

There's a soft look those deep brown eyes as he leans down to kiss his lover. "C'mon, get up. I'll let you have first dibs on the bathroom and then I'll make breakfast."

"I dun wanna get up," Reid moans.

"Get up before I decide to take those blankets downstairs with me."

"Who woulda thought you're such a morning person."

Morgan chuckles as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants. "Usually I'm not. But then, usually I don't have such a delightful vision to greet my eyes as I wake up."

"Definitely not a poet either."

"C'mon, up, or no breakfast."

"I can live with that." He buries himself further into the covers.

"No you can't. I've made it my personal goal to put some meat on those bones o' yours."

A stifled yawn. "I'm not hungry. Coffee'll be fine till lunch."

"Nuh uh. Trust me, once you see my magnificent cooking, you won't be able to refuse."

"I'm gonna end up in the hospital with food poisoning, aren't I?"

"Maybe a couple of broken bones if you don't join me in fifteen minutes time." He starts down the stairs.

"Fifteen minutes isn't long enough to take a shower," Reid calls after him, certain that he'd found some sort of victory in pointing this out.

"Just get up, do your business, whatever. Shower later. Trust me, you'll want to."

Reid sighed. Whatever. He might as well humour Morgan; after all, it wasn't every morning he got an offer for homemade breakfast. And they still had plenty of time before work. Maybe Morgan would be interested in a different sort of breakfast altogether.

Fifteen minutes later found Reid making his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, following the smell of cooking pancakes. The table that had been so cluttered last night was now bare, save for two plates piled with five pancakes each. And butter. And…whipped cream? And a bottle of RediWhip sitting ever so nicely between the plates? Reid looked up into his lovers mischievous eyes.

Oh.

Oh yes.

Oh yes, indeed.


	41. Prompt 03: Ends

**A/N:** This may not make sense unless you've read/seen The Phantom of the Opera. I tried to make it as comprehensible as possible as long as you know the basic premise (really, just watch the episode of Wishbone!)

Disclaimer: I own neither Criminal Minds nor Phantom of the Opera. But isn't it just a match made in hell? (Given the Phantom's Criminal Mind XD)

**Prompt 3: Ends** (Reid, Morgan, and Garcia)

Reid reached across the couch to snag some popcorn from the bowl in Morgan's lap. "If you had to choose between Raoul and Erik, who would you choose?"

"Shhhh!" From her seat on the floor between their feet, Garcia glared at the two men.

"Raoul and _who_?" Morgan whispered back at the young genius.

"Erik. The Phantom."

"You mean if I were Christine?"

"No, if you were you."

"Raoul, hands down."

"Why?"

"I've dealt with enough psychos in my lifetime, and The Phantom pretty much tops them all. He's obsessive, he kills remorselessly, and he lives in a frickin' cave. I couldn't spend the rest of my life below an opera house."

"You have no sense of adventure."

"Adventure?"

"Yeah. That'd be an awesome place to explore, what with all the secret passages and stuff."

"And the booby traps every five feet."

"That just adds to the excitement. Besides, if you were with Erik, you'd know where all the booby traps were."

"Raoul's more handsome."

"Ah HA!"

"Shhhhh!"

"Sorry. I mean, ah ha. You are biased against Erik because of his looks, just like all those people who tortured him as a kid." He reached for more popcorn.

"That's not what I said, man. Disfiguration aside, I just think Raoul's better looking. I take it you'd choose The Phantom?"

"Mmmmm-hmmmm."

"Why?"

"Well, if I were me, I'd still have all my psychological knowledge. I'd be able to help him, and if anyone needs therapy, it's him."

"Freud wasn't doing his 'thang' back in 1870. If you were you back in 1870, you wouldn't know anything about psychology."

"I'd still want to help him."

Morgan watched the screen thoughtfully for a few minutes. Garcia settled back, hoping she'd finally get to watch the movie in peace.

"Alright, I've changed my mind," Morgan declared. So much for peace.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Given the choice, I'd choose Christine's friend, the little blonde."

"That doesn't count!"

"Shhhh!"

"Why doesn't it count?"

"Because you'd be in Christine's position."

"But you said-"

"You're you, but you have to make Christine's choice."

"Well, why shouldn't Christine choose Meg? I bet they're _really_ good friends, if you know what I mean."

Reid laughed. "You just want to fantasize about two hot girls making out." He paused. "Did you know the Meg in the book was actually not very pretty?"

"Who cares? This one's pretty cute."

"Doesn't count as a choice. Your choices are a rich prettyboy or a reclusive genius."

"Ohhh. So, what you're saying is my choices are a rich prettyboy or _you_."

"I'd hardly compare myself to Erik."

"Well, I would. In that case 'Erik' would definitely be my choice."

"You know," Garcia interrupted, "that's all nice and lovey, but I'm _trying to watch this movie_."

"Sorry, Princess," Morgan soothed.

Reid, on the other hand, smirked at the back of her head. "Just be glad we're not making out behind you."

"Actually, that's probably exactly what she's waiting for."

"Pervert."

Garcia merely smiled. "Don't you know that's really how _The Phantom of the Opera_ was originally supposed to end? Christine realizes she has two incredible men at her disposal, and arranges a _ménage a trois_. Or at least she makes it so that she can watch the two of them making out. It just didn't translate well to 19th century French literature."

End


	42. Prompt 28: Children

**A/N:** After my traumatic forray into the world of the Phantom of the Opera, I return to you, my loyal CM fans. I'll never leave you again! Please review, I seek reassurance that I'm really not all that horrible of a writer.

Warning/Disclaimer: SLASH/I don't own any characters herein except Alexander and his mom, and for that I apologize.

**Prompt 28: Children **(Reid/Morgan)

"What did you just say?"

"I said I have a son. He's six years old, named Alexander. Good kid."

"Why didn't you ever tell any of us?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but I like to keep my personal business private. Just like everyone else here, including you."

"This is bigger than 'oh, by the way, I was raped as a kid' or 'by the way, my mom's schizophrenic.'" He's so angry he doesn't even think before the words come tumbling from his mouth – a far cry from his normal, over-analytic self. "This is, 'by the way, I have a son I never told anyone about, so if I die on assignment, be sure to let him know.'"

"At least I told you, didn't I?"

"So…what? The only way you're going to tell anyone anything is if you sleep with them? I'll be sure to tell Hotch; I'm sure he's just dying to know that."

"It was a mistake, okay? But at least I own up to it, and I don't shirk from my duties. Who cares if only a few people know, so long as those who matter do."

"Derek, this changes _everything_ and I don't just mean between us. I mean at work, too. Hotch –"

"You're not going to tell Hotch."

"I should."

"Do you realize what it cost me to even tell you?"

"Yeah. Potentially one boyfriend."

His words hang heavily in the air. Derek sighs, runs his hands over his head. "Okay, you're angry. I get that. Don't I get points for opening up to you? I don't want there to be secrets between us."

He wants to say yes, but what comes out instead is "Aren't you proud of him?"

Derek looks taken aback. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be? I just said he's a great kid, very smart."

"Then why do you keep him a secret?"

"Like you said, it changes everything. And I don't want anything to change, like it did when the whole thing in Chicago happened. My life is crazy enough chasing after all these psychos; I don't need more drama on top of all that. Spencer, what is this really about?"

He hesitates. "My father abandoned my mom and me when I was still pretty young."

Derek takes him into his arms, holds him tight. Protects him from his thoughts – he's the only person in the world who can. "I haven't abandoned Alex. I visit him every chance I get, go to as many school functions as I can. I pay child support. I stay on friendly terms with his mother. I just…keep my personal life separate from my work life. Surely you can understand that."

"I can."

"Then there's no problem now?"

Spencer leans his head back, considers his lover's face. "Are you going to tell him about me?"

"'Course I am. In fact he already knows about you; I tell him all about the quirky people I work with."

"I meant…us."

He thinks it over. "Alex's mom already knows. And I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually. I'd like you to meet him, of course…but not before I tell him. I'll do it soon."

"Then that's a yes?"

"That's a definitely. We good?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're good."

End


	43. Prompt 74: Dark

**A/N:** Cookies to whomever gets the 100th review. :)

**Prompt 74: Dark **(Morgan/Reid)

"I'm so cold."

"You've got about five blankets piled on top of you."

"I still can't get warm. It's like I'm cold inside, not out."

"Shift over." Springs squeak, warm arms encircle. "Better?"

"Can you….tighter?"

"Sure, baby. How's that?"

"Warm…"

"Good."

"Gideon-"

"Hush, baby. There's nothing you can do for Gideon now."

"But-"

"Shhhhh. It'll be okay. Go to sleep."

"Can't sleep. The nightmares…"

"I'll keep you safe. Go to sleep."

"Yeah, but who will keep you safe?"

"You will."

"I can't promise that."

"No, but I can. Go to sleep."

"I-"

"Good night, Spencer." Firmly relentless.

"Good night, Derek."


	44. Prompt 44: Circle

**Characters (Pairings): **Reid and Morgan (R/M-ish)

**Rating: **PG

**Warning(s):** Not-quite-slash? Gen if you really squint

**Author's Notes:** Cookies to Ischia for being my 100th reviewer on as promised!

**Disclaimer: **Don't own 'em, don't sue.

**Prompt 44: Circle** (Reid/Morgan)

"I'm just saying I think it'd be hot."

"No way. Absolutely not."

"Come on, it'd be so sexy."

"It'd make me look even more like a girl."

"So cut your damn hair."

"No, I like my hair long."

"Now you're just being facetious."

"Besides, the FBI would throw a fit."

"It's just hypothetical, so it doesn't matter. You don't think a little hoop, right here, would look good?" Fingers play along his earlobe.

"Not a stud?"

"No, it'd definitely have to be a hoop."

"Nope. I think it'd look terrible."

"Fine, no earring."

"Thank you."

"How about a nipple ring?"


	45. Prompt 26: Teammates

**Characters (Pairings): **Reid and Morgan (none)

**Rating: **FRC/G

**Warning(s): **Angst

**Spoilers: **Through _In Birth and Death_

**Word Count: **131

**Author's Notes: **Dedicated to Mog for reviewing 9 chapters in one night. That, my dear, is commitment. And I changed my summary to read ficlets instead of drabbles. (grin)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Prompt 26: Teammates **(Reid and Morgan)

"Hey. You okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Spencer. You and Gideon were close."

Reid sighed. "I wish I could say I saw it coming. I mean, now that I think about it, there were all these signs."

"You know what they say about hindsight."

"Yeah."

"Look on the bright side, kid; he could always come back to visit."

"I really don't think he will. I think he's finally put all this behind him, and if he looks back, it'll crush him. Boston and then Sarah…"

"He can't just forget about us. We were his teammates for years."

"Didn't you notice how he was determined to keep us all at a distance after Boston?"

"Except you."

"Especially me."

"You were like a son to him."

"Exactly."

**End**


	46. Prompt 31: Sunrise

**Characters (Pairings): **Reid and Morgan (R/M)

**Rating: **FRT/PG13

**Warning(s): **Slash, sap. Diabetics be warned

**Spoilers: **None

**Word Count: **337

**Author's Notes: **Written as a birthday present to myself (grin)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CM

**Prompt 31: Sunrise** (Morgan/Reid)

"G'mornin' babe."

Spencer smiled at the wall, too lost in his thoughts to properly face his lover. "Morning."

Next to him, Derek pulled himself slightly from the depths of the covers to nestle next to the young genius, who was half reclining against a mound of pillows, staring straight ahead. He planted several little kisses against the near-blindingly white chest. "What're thinking 'bout?"

A shake of his head. "Nothing important."

"Don't give me that." Half teasing. "You know everything you think is important."

"It's just such a beautiful sunrise."

"Baby, the shades are drawn."

"I know. But I still know that if I were to look out the window, it'd be a beautiful sunrise."

"Even if it's raining?"

"Especially if it's raining."

Derek laughed. "Anybody ever tell you you're silly?"

"You mean other than you?"

"Yeah, other than me."

Spencer shook his head ruefully. "No. If I were to say that to anyone else, they'd get this awed expression on their faces and tell me how very philosophical I am. Just because I have a high IQ and can read really fast, they all think everything I say is some Earth-shattering revelation." He looked down at the understanding face beside him. "Not you, though. That's what I lo- like about you."

Derek considered him carefully, reached out a hand to caress his face. Spencer closed his eyes, reveling in the contact, remembering the events of the night before. Wishing he could say the words that had implicitly agreed never to speak. Three little words that carried the weight of the world.

He blinked – the moment was broken. Derek stretched, rolled out of the bed, muttering something about breakfast. Spencer closed his eyes, chastising himself for not having the courage to just open his mouth, let the words come spilling from it. A sigh. Maybe tomorrow. Always tomorrow. He reopened his eyes, only to find Derek standing in the doorway, staring at him, tender affection in his eyes. "What?"

"You're right. It is a beautiful sunrise."

Close enough.


	47. Prompt 64: Fall

**Characters (Pairings): **Whole team

**Rating: **FRC

**Warning(s): **Garcia's silliness

**Spoilers:** None, slightly AU for having Gideon still there?

**Word Count: **1031 (I win!)

**Author's Notes: **Jill posted a challenge (of sorts) to say what sort of Halloween costumes the gang would wear. This is my answer, though not really, since it's Garcia who's dressing them, and they're going to a party, not hanging out on the street. And it's clearly not in Chicago, since Garcia's there - it'd have to be somewhere close to Quantico

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them

**Prompt 64: Fall** (The whole team)

"Hey guys, Garcia's comin'," Morgan announced, "and she's bringing a giant box."

"Should we be scared?" Reid asked, only half joking.

"Come on guys." Hotch this time. "We need to act like we're actually enjoying ourselves at this costume party tonight, so try to get in the spirit, okay?"

"Yeah, but did we really have to ask _Garcia_ to pick out our costumes? Knowing her, they're all going to be really…well, it's Garcia."

"Hey guys." Garcia, breathless. "Sorry it took so long."

"What have you got for us?" Hotch asked, eyeing the sword poking out the top of the box with apprehension.

She grinned. "A whole lot of fun. Okay, let's see." She pulled out the sword. "This is for you, Gideon, along with….aha, wig, fake mustache, and vest. I figured you'd have a white shirt and a pair of pants to go with these. How's your Spanish accent?"

"He's Zorro?" JJ guessed, turning the wig over in her hands.

"Zorro would have a mask, sweetie. Gideon's going as Inigo Montoya from _Princess Bride_."

"Inigo Montoya wears boots," Gideon pointed out lightly.

"You don't have a pair of boots?" He shook his head; she paused, said simply, "Improvise, then. Uh, sir." Gideon sat back in his chair, smiling slightly.

"Next?"

"Right, next we have….ah, for JJ." She pulled out a bright pink purse that had a stuffed Chihuahua poking it's head through the zipper.

"Ohhhh, no. No way."

"That's right, our very own Elle Woods. Don't suppose you brought a pink suit with you?"

"I won't go dressed as _Legally Blonde_."

"That's okay, I guessed at your size, but I think it'll fit." She piled the pink suit on top of the purse. "I considered Career Girl Barbie, but saw this purse and couldn't resist."

Reid reached into the box, pulled out a football helmet. He grinned. "Let me guess who this belongs to."

Garcia snatched it out of his hands. "Did I say you could go digging through my box? Hot stuff, this is for you." She passed it over to Morgan, along with a jersey, pants, and pads.

JJ leaned over to whisper to Emily, "How did she manage to fit all of this into one box?"

"It's a bit like Mary Poppins, isn't it?" Emily said.

In the meantime, Morgan was staring at his jersey. "I'm going as Brett Favre?"

Garcia peered at the shirt with him. "Ummm, yeah. He's a quarterback, isn't he? Aren't they the ones who tackle people?"

"Not exactly."

"Oh. Well, close enough. Football is football. Besides, it was either him or Tony Romo."

"At least Romo plays for the Cowboys."

"Well, on that note, I almost got a Cowboys cheerleader costume for you instead, but they didn't come in your size. Besides, I thought green and yellow would suit your much better."

"You so owe me for this, baby girl."

Hotch cleared his throat. "Moving on?"

"Right, moving on." Her box seemed to be emptying as she felt around for a moment before pulling out a wig and another fake mustache, this time both white and fairly ratty looking. "For Reid."

"I'm going as Einstein?" he asked, taking the objects from her and looking them over.

"And _that_ is precisely why you are going as Albert Einstein," she said with a grin. "I saw the set in the shop and my first thought was of you."

"Aw, gee, thanks."

"No problem. I figured you could just wear your own clothes."

He stared at her. "I don't dress like a early 1900s physicist, do I?"

"I thought the world of geek apparel couldn't have changed that much in a hundred years. Just wear a suit and tie, who'll know the difference?"

"I will, for one."

"It's not like it's gonna be a bunch of geniuses at this party, you know. Just a bunch of drunk thiry-somethings and one serial killer. Nobody'll know the difference."

"Just do us a favour and don't set off an atomic bomb in the middle of the party," Morgan joked.

"Right, and for Emily…" She turned the box over, dumping out a collar, tail, and kitty ears headband. "Meow. Just wear a black long-sleeved shirt and black pants or leggings."

"Is there some logic behind this choice?" Emily asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Is there any logic behind Gideon going as Inigo Montoya?" JJ rebutted.

"I dunno, I always thought there was some similarities in their faces." Reid grinned at his mentor.

"Would you be offended if I said my first thought was to dress you as Pinocchio?" Garcia asked.

Emily laughed. "Trust me, I've heard it all before."

"Good. Just be glad I didn't get you the slutty kitty costume." She tossed the empty box on the floor.

"Uh, Garcia." Hotch looked puzzled. "Where's my costume?"

"Don't think I've forgotten you, my fearless leader. My first thought for you was the Tin Man –"

"Because I'm a heartless slave driver?"

"Precisely. But that'd take too much effort, and it's not a very good short-notice costume. So I started thinking what would be really simple and so very Hotch? Drum roll, please? You're going as……Tom Cruise in _Risky Business_."

Total silence.

Morgan leaned over to Reid. "I think I just saw a tumbleweed."

"Garcia, I'm not going as Tom Cruise in _Risky Business_."

"Why not? It's perfect – you don't need an actual costume, just your regular clothes."

"Where would I put my gun?"

She winked at him. "I'm sure you can be creative."

"No."

"Fine. Then how about my second choice: take these sunglasses, dress as yourself and be a secret service agent. Or FBI, whichever you prefer. You could even wave your badge around, impress all the drunken thirty-somethings."

"Hiding in plain sight?" Gideon supplied.

"Exactly."

Hotch sighed. "Well, it's better than nothing."

"Guys, before we go through with this, are we sure David McNeal's even gonna be at this party?" Morgan asked

"He'll be there." Gideon, simply.

"How will we know who he is if he's wearing a costume?"

"Ask around," Hotch instructed. "Somebody's bound to know him."

"And if he has even a fraction of Garcia's sense of irony," JJ said, "he'll probably be dressed a Grim Reaper."


	48. Prompt 43: Square

Rating: FRC 

Warning(s): Implied slash, Reid-torture (of sorts)

Spoilers: 1x6 LDSK

Word Count: 270

Author's Notes: Yes, Reid was wearing his glasses at the time, even though he hasn't worn them on the show since before 2x14. I don't care. It's funny anyway. And I'm pretty sure the prompt fits. Because I say so.

Disclaimer: These are not my characters. I just drool over them on a weekly basis.

**Prompt 43: Square** (Most of the team)

Emily tilted her head to the side in consideration. "Well, it could have been worse."

"Yeah, but I don't think Reid's ever gotten anything lower than an A before in _anything_."

"But JJ told me that he actually failed a gun qualification test back before I joined."

Morgan made a face. "We try not to talk about that much."

"You made fun of him, didn't you?"

"Who me?"

"He's still just staring at it."

"I'm telling you, I think he's in shock. Failure doesn't go over well with boy geniuses like him. Reid, man, you okay?"

The object of their discussion shot him a dirty look. "You so owe me for this." And walked off.

"Emily's right," Morgan called after him. "It could have been worse." He lowered his voice, addressing Prentiss. "Although, really, after he stepped on his own foot, nearly tripped, _and_ somehow managed to knock off his glasses… It really doesn't get much worse than that."

Emily laughed. "Let me guess who's gonna be sleeping on the couch tonight."

"Hey, this wasn't even my idea," Derek protested. "All Garcia's fault. Besides, I promised him great rewards if he would try it just once."

"Please." She raised her hand. "Spare me the details."

Hotch approached them. "One of you mind explaining to me why Reid asked me to come over here and slap the both of you upside your heads?"

Emily and Derek glanced at each other. "He might be a little annoyed with us right now," Emily said.

Peering at the large screen before them, Hotch asked them, incredulous, "You convinced _Reid_ to play _Dance, Dance Revolution?_"

A/N 2: Don't ask me where they would have access to a DDR game. Garcia's house, maybe? (grin)


	49. Prompt 88: School

Characters (Pairings): Reid and Morgan, mention of Mrs. Reid and OC (R/M)

Rating: FRT

Warning(s): Slash (implied), words that should never be spoken by Dr. Spencer Reid.

Spoilers: None (unless you count Diana's profession, if I even got it right. Too lazy to verify)

Word Count: 387

Author's Notes: I started with the prompt "school" and just let it take me where it would. I apologize XD It was almost Gen, I swear, but then at the end, I just couldn't help myself. And I've been awake since 4 this morning.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. My alterego, on the other hand...doesn't either. Damnit.

Prompt 88: School (Reid/Morgan) 

"You know for a while, I considered becoming a teacher."

"You?"

"Yeah, but my mom said I should be out in the world _doing_ things, not stuck in a classroom like she was."

"She like teaching?"

"She loved it. But she kept repeating that old saying 'those who can, do; those who can't, teach,' and saying that I can, therefore I should."

"Your mom's a smart lady."

"I dunno. Sometimes I think I'm more cut out for teaching or something like that. Or, I don't know, becoming a therapist or something."

"Well, I for one am glad that you decided to go with the FBI in the end."

"Yeah."

"What would you have taught?"

Long fingers fidgeting, tapping, dancing to a rhythmless beat. "Physics, probably. Maybe psychology. Or literature, like my mom…. Or maybe all three?" A mirthless chuckle. "I have no idea.

"I can't imagine you as a teacher, to be honest."

"Me neither. I'm no good with children."

"So, no little Reids running around in your future?"

"Not unless the sperm bank – Hey! These are my good pants! You mind not spitting coffee all over them?"

"Did you seriously…?"

"No, of course not, don't be ridiculous!"

"Just making sure. Jeez, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Is it that scary an idea?"

"No way, man. This world could use a few more geniuses to outweigh all the idiots and psychos we got runnin' around. I just…the words 'sperm bank' coming out of your mouth with out being connected to a case in some way is just a little…unexpected. Kinda like the first time I heard my sister use the word 'dildo.'"

"Okay, surely it's not that bad."

"Well, maybe not that bad, but very close."

"Now, if I were to start talking about dildos, on the other hand-"

"Reid!"

"What?"

"We're here. At the school. Remember the teacher we're supposed to be interviewing?"

"'Course I do. What about it?"

"Just…let me do the talking, okay? And if you so much as whisper the word dildo in front of the kiddies, I'll-"

"Spank me?"

"Reid!"


	50. Prompt 15: Blue

Characters (Pairings): Reid, Morgan, Prentiss, Garcia, Hotch (R/M) 

Rating: FRT

Warning(s): Kinky!Reid, blue tongues (and other body parts), slash, sheer idiocy

Spoilers: None

Word Count: 220

Author's Notes: With this prompt, I'm halfway done with the Big Damn Table!!! I feel so accomplished! And I have about 4 more ideas on the way, one of which is a request...

Disclaimer: I don't own these wonderful characters, but I'm pretty sure I own their kinks and phobias. Although with Reid, you just never know...

**Prompt 15: Blue** (Reid/Morgan)

"Hey, what colour is it now?" Reid asked.

Morgan glanced over at him. "Still pink."

A pause. "How about now?"

"Still pink."

"Damn!"

Sighing, "Just stick the damn thing in your mouth, suck, and it'll turn blue."

"…Are you sure that's what you w-"

"You know what I meant. Why are you eating a blue lollipop anyway? Just to turn your tongue blue?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"To freak Garcia out. Something about weird coloured tongues freak her out. Or any weird coloured body part, for that matter."

"Well, just so long as you ain't painting any other part of your body for her to see."

"Oh, no. I saved that for you."

"Gee, aren't I lucky. Don't you come crying to me when she kicks your ass. I still haven't forgiven you for Halloween when you put that mask on your-"

"Hey guys, Hotch says if you're finished with your reports, he wants them ASAP," Emily said, poking her head into the break room.

Reid stood up. "I'm off to see Garcia; give my report to Hotch, will you?"

Emily nodded and disappeared.

"Hey." Morgan grabbed Reid's arm to stop him from leaving, pulled him closer. "If I see that you've painted any part of your body blue…"

"Oh, don't worry. The stuff I got is edible. Blueberry." He smirked.

"Punk."


	51. Prompt 17: Brown

Rating: FRM

Warning(s): Implied slash, clogged drains, hair facts

Spoilers: None, unless you count the fact that Morgan has a dog?

Word Count: 331

Author's Notes: This was a requested piece from one of my readers, Jodie1.

Disclaimer: I support the writers! (but I don't own the characters... :( )

**Prompt 17: Brown** (Reid/Morgan)

"Did you find what's blocking the drain yet?" Reid asked, peering over his lover's shoulder.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did. Here." Morgan held out a handful of brown sogginess.

The younger man pulled back in disgust. "Ugh, is that a dead rat?"

"Nope. From what I can tell, it's a giant pile of hair."

"Whose?"

Morgan looked at him. "You're joking, right?"

"I'm sure if I'm clever enough I can find a way to make you share the blame." He grinned. "After all, I wasn't the one who nearly ripped out a chunk of my own hair the last time I blew you in the shower."

"Completely irrelevant, I'm sure."

"My scalp was sore for days."

"Okay, so maybe I tugged a little too hard, but I'm positive I'm not the reason you shed like a frickin' sheep dog. You're worse than Clooney."

"Actually, the average male loses about eighty hairs every day."

Morgan paused long enough to give his lover an incredulous look. "At that rate, shouldn't you be as bald as me? Shouldn't everyone, for that matter?"

Reid's face adopted the enthusiastic expression it usually got when he was about to recite some obscurely random fact. Morgan mentally braced himself. "Statistically speaking, humans have about 100,000 hairs on their heads, though redheads generally have less, while blondes tend to have more. The lifespan of hair is about two to seven years, and annual growth is about twelve centi-"

"Spencer?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Or what?" He smirked. "You'll spank me?"

"Don't think I won't."

"You have yet to follow up on that particular threat," Reid noted.

"Knowing you, you'd probably like it too much."

"No. No. Anything but a spanking. Please. I'll be good, I promise," he intoned. "Happy?"

Morgan laughed. "Watch your mouth, boy, or I'll have you on your knees in that shower so fast, not only will your head spin, but I'll do more'n just tug on those mutinous locks o' yours."

"Promises, promises."

Fun facts about hair came from Jodie1 and


	52. Prompt 48: Diamond

Warning(s): Slash, future-fic, request, character death

Spoilers: Through season 3

Word Count: 799

Author's Notes: Request fic from Silverone3 on Sorry it took so long, luv.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.

**Prompt 48: Diamond** (R/M)

_31 December 2022_

_Dear Mom,_

_How are you doing? How was your Christmas? Did you get the card and present that Derek and I sent you? I had meant to write to you sooner, but things have gotten hectic all of a sudden. Derek's still getting used to his new post as head of the BAU, so I have to be there for him to help him out whenever possible. We all still miss Hotch so much, but it's better for him now that he's taken a less strenuous post and can spend a lot more time with Jack. I can hardly believe how grown up he is now!! Jack, that is, not Hotch, obviously._

_Jason came over to visit us for a week before Christmas. We had a lot of fun, and we got the whole team together, as much as possible. Even Elle came down from Boston, which was really great. Agents Perry and Daniels were a little intimidated to meet 'the great profiler' aka Gideon, so of course to ease their minds we had to tell the most embarrassing stories we knew about him. Elle had them all laughing with her recalling how he reacted when she called him 'dad' once, remember I told you about that? It was a very long time ago now. When I think about it, I can hardly believe the changes the BAU has gone through since then. I think I know now how Dave must have felt when he rejoined the team after Jason left. _

_In any case, we had quite a full house on Christmas Eve, with Hotch and Jack, Jason and his son, Agent Perry with his son and wife,, Agent Daniels, Emily and her boyfriend, Elle, Elle's husband and two daughters (I still can't get over her having a family now!), Garcia and her boyfriend and one of her brothers who was over for the holiday, and JJ with her husband, and of course Derek and me. The only person missing was Dave, but we made sure to make a toast in his memory._

_So after Christmas, it was back to work with lots of busy-ness. We almost immediately had a case in Ohio, but it was fairly simple. Honestly, I don't know why the locals thought they needed our help on it. But on the positive side, we made it back home in time for New Year's Eve._

_I'm saving the best news for last. I woke up on Christmas Day to find Derek already up. This isn't a strange thing on normal days, since he likes to exercise early in the morning, but on holidays he usually sleeps in. Well, I went downstairs and he was sitting on the couch, looking at the tree with a cup of coffee in his hand, another on the side table for me, and this beautiful smile on his face. It really was an amazing sight. Anyway, he hands me this huge box, about the size of a cat carrier, and tells me 'merry Christmas.' It's beautifully wrapped, so I take my time to spare the paper. Inside is a plain box all taped up. I undo the tape, open the box, only to find another box. And inside that one is a series of Wal-Mart bags. Inside the bags is a whole lot of bubble wrap. At this point, I'm half-annoyed, half-amused, and Derek is practically rubbing his hands together in evil glee. I finally get all the bubble wrap off to find a small velvet box. I look at Derek – and he's gotten off the couch and is down on one knee. I nearly cried at that moment. No words were really necessary, he knew what my answer would be._

_It's not a super fancy engagement ring or anything – it's just a plain band with a single small diamond embedded in it. But it's more than I could ever ask for. Now I need to find one for him. I was thinking I could come out to Nevada and you and I could take a day trip out to a shopping center or something, and you could help me pick one out. We both want you to come to the wedding, but we'll understand if you can't, and this way at least you'll have taken part in it. Plus I wouldn't trust myself to pick a good one. We haven't set a date yet, but we don't want a big wedding, so it should be pretty soon. I can come for that visit, and then you and I could travel back together. You said flying's not so bad with me, so maybe you won't mind it? Let me know as soon as possible. I love you lots, Mom. Derek sends his love as well._

_Love,_

_Spencer XOXOXO_


	53. Prompt 58: Dinner

Beta: yehwellwhatever

Characters (Pairings): Morgan and Reid (M/R)

Rating: FR-10ish?

Warning(s): AU-ish, pre-series

Spoilers: None

Word Count: 1090 (Oops)

Author's Notes: It didn't seem to warrant a happy ending. Sorry.

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds

**Prompt 58: Dinner** (Morgan/Reid)

Reid cast a nervous eye over the table. "I thought you said this wasn't going to be anything special."

"Yeah, well, I lied." As he pops the cork off the wine. Pricey wine at that. Lied, indeed.

"Why did you invite me to dinner?" he blurted out, as though it was something he had been dying to ask and couldn't resist anymore. Knowing him, it probably was.

Morgan shrugged. "Felt like we should celebrate."

"Celebrate?" Damn it, why did his voice have to squeak like that; just for once couldn't he come across as a mature adult around Morgan?

"Sure, why not?" He glanced at the young man who is bobbing nervously just inside his field of vision. "Sit down, the chair won't eat you. Don't tell me a genius like you forgot what today is."

Ever obedient, he complied. "June sixteenth, 2004 AD." Pause. "Or if you'd rather, according to the Hebrew calendar, it's the twenty-seventh day of the month Sivan, year…5764, I believe. Or in the Chinese-"

"Whoa, whoa, easy there, kid." He chuckled. "I guess I asked for that, didn't I? Okay, it's the 16th of June….Does that not ring any bells for you?"

Playing with his blunt butter knife, he decided to take a stab at it. "If you're trying to celebrate the day I joined the BAU, you're off by about a week. And shouldn't you have invited the rest of the team as well?"

Morgan set a plate of delicious-looking lasagna in front of his coworker. "Ah, but I was out sick with the flu on the day you joined, wasn't I?"

"Right. You didn't get back to work until, what was it…?"

"Four days later, if I remember correctly."

Realization dawning. "On the sixteenth."

That gorgeously devastating smile. "Knew you'd catch on quick enough. That's why they call you a genius."

"Well, that and because I have an ei-"

Morgan held up a hand. "I know. Believe me, I know." Still smiling.

Reid ducked his head, blushing. "Sorry." Unsure of what to say next, he scooped some oven-hot pasta into his mouth. Seconds later, his hand flew to his mouth, barely managing to keep his instinctive reflexes from spewing the food back out onto his plate.

"You okay there, kid? My cooking can't be that bad – it came from a frozen package."

"I-" He swallowed. "I burned my tongue." He wondered vaguely if the blush on his cheeks will become permanent, or perhaps he can pass it off on the heat of the food.

"You need anything?" That gentle, brotherly concern that got to Reid every damn time… The younger man mentally shook himself to keep his body and emotions from melting into a pile of oozing, mushy goo.

"No" and his voice didn't tremble as badly as he thought it would, thank god.

They resumed eating – well, Morgan did, at any rate. Reid distractedly pushed his lasagna around his plate, not taking a bite. There was something more going on than a simple celebration, and they both knew it. And Reid got the sneaking sensation that Morgan was dragging it out just to tormenting, waiting to see how long it would take before the younger man would be unable to contain himself. Well, Reid wouldn't play his game. He simply would not. He was quite above that, thank you very much, and no amount of curiosity could shake his resolve and make him swallow his pride-

"Why did you invite me here?" Again, without warning, but this time with a force akin to that of a fire hose.

To his credit, the look Morgan gave his coworker is perfectly blank, unreadable. "I told you-"

But two were playing the game now, and Spencer Reid always played to win. "I know what you told me, and now I'd like the truth, please." He could barely look the older man in his eyes, but the command behind the words was unmistakable. This was the first time Morgan had seen this side of the timid young genius, and he knew at once that it was a side he would like very much to keep hidden as much as possible. Game up – you lose, Derek.

He took a sip of his wine to steady himself. "I needed to talk to you. Alone."

"Work-"

"Don't even. Don't think I haven't noticed how you've been avoiding me since what happened in San Antonio."

He should have know it all along. "What happened in San Antonio was a complete-"

"Reid…"

"Complete mistake, and you and I both know it!" Breath rapid, voice raised; he never should have agreed to this dinner, should have told Morgan to leave well enough alone.

"Y'know, for a genius, you're not very smart, are you?"

"You can't possibly think that this-" he gestured desperately between the two of them- "could possibly work."

"Why not?"

"Why… why not?" Incredulous. "I can't believe I'm actually hearing this coming out of your mouth!"

"You don't have an answer, do you?" Coolly, thinking he had won.

Reid couldn't handle his calm defense, his quiet assuredness. He needed to get away – quickly. He needed to find some place where he could be alone with his thoughts, think it out, always thinking except when it really mattered. It was his non-thinking that had gotten him into this mess in the first place, and he just needed to apply his 187 IQ-brain, because _that's who he was,_ and he would be able to solve this problem, logically. Without his inane, irrelevant (or so Reid wanted to convince himself) arguments.

He stood up; Morgan made no move to stop him. "I have to go," he could hear himself saying, almost mechanically.

"You sure?" _How could he always remain so calm?_

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure."

As the young man lets himself out of the apartment, Morgan doesn't allow himself to try to stop him; he doesn't allow himself to make all the fresh arguments he had prepared to convince his colleague. He doesn't let himself stare mournfully at the wasted food. He doesn't permit himself to bang his clenched fist against the hardwood table in frustration at his own ineptitude. And he certainly doesn't let himself call up the kid's cell phone and leave a message _Hey Reid, gimme a call when you're ready to talk_ like some idiot adolescent desperate to keep his first girlfriend.

Derek Morgan does not allow himself to acknowledge doing these things because that would be admitting just how head over heels he had fallen for the boy-genius.


	54. Prompt 66: Rain

Characters (Pairings): Reid, Morgan, Hotch (R/M)

Rating: FRT?

Warning(s): Implied slash, angsty!Reid, alcohol

Spoilers: None

Word Count: 1,234 (0.0)

Author's Notes: This is a prequel to my previous ficlet Dinner. Sets up the background for that one. Can be read in either order, but should really be read together.

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, nor Spencer and Derek. More's the pity.

**Prompt 66: Rain** (Spencer/Derek)

"Hey, kid, there you are. The team's been lookin' for ya. Rain's comin' down pretty hard still, and it doesn't look like it's gonna let up, so looks like we're stuck here for at least the night."

Reid's only response was to jerk his head slightly in what might or might not have been a nod.

"Who woulda thought it could actually rain this much in San Antonio?"

This time a noncommittal grunt.

Morgan sighed and dropped heavily into the hard plastic seat next to his colleague. "Okay, now I know you're not okay because that was your cue to start quoting annual rain statistics and whatnot."

Reid shrugged. "I didn't feel like it."

Morgan looked hard at him for a moment; he looked like crap, though the older man had a feeling he himself did not look much better. Eyes dark and haunted, whole body a picture of despair as he slumped over the restaurant table in the middle of the airport, both hands clutching a tall glass of something dark. "What're you drinking?"

He barely raised his head. "Coke."

Suppressing a laugh, "You are twenty-one, aren't you?"

Finally, a glare. "_Yes._ I just didn't really want to get drunk tonight."

"Fair enough. C'mon."

"Where're we going?"

"We're gonna go not get drunk back at the hotel. Much more comfortable there, and it's about time somebody on the team actually used one of the beds for sleeping on, instead of as a desk or a coat rack."

Reid fidgeted, half rising from his chair. "I don't think I could sleep even if I were tired. When I close my eyes, I just keep seeing…"

Morgan snagged his partner's coat, held it out for him. "Happens," he told the young genius bracingly.

He seemed to consider that for a moment. "How exactly are we going to get back to the hotel if it's pouring hard enough to ground all air traffic?"

"I lived in Chicago, remember? I'm used to driving in all sorts of weather conditions."

"It's not so much your driving I'm worried about as all the other Texans on the road who maybe aren't so used to it."

A quick laugh. "I'll be sure to watch out for the natives. Luckily it's not too far to the hotel. Only, what, a mile?"

"Three and a half, actually, but that's still not too bad, I suppose."

"Better than it could be, anyway. I'mma call Gideon and let him know. Him and Hotch and the others are probably already back at the hotel."

They didn't say another word to each other until they were back at the hotel, holed up in the room they were supposed to have shared while on this case, though Morgan could probably count on two fingers the number of times they had actually been in the room together over the last five days. Something in Reid seemed to have given way again, and he was once more slumped in on himself, the haunted look back. Morgan's heart ached for him; he came up beside the younger man, placed his hand on the bony shoulder. "It could have been worse. A lot worse."

"But it didn't even have this bad in the first place. We could have…"

"What?" He shrugged out of his coat, tossed it on the standard hotel dresser, tossed himself on the closest bed. "What could we possibly have done differently?"

Reid shifted to sit at the end of the same bed, perching on the edge like some giant, gangly, awkward bird, hands fidgeting nervously on his knees. "We had all the pieces," he said. "We just….weren't fast enough putting them together."

"And by 'we,' you really mean…."

"Me."

"Exactly. You're blaming yourself for something you had no control over."

"But that's just it," Reid insisted. "I did have control over it. I could have-"

"No, you couldn't have. Let's be realistic here: we're all only human in the end. Okay, so you have a higher-than-average IQ. A lot higher, in fact. That doesn't mean you should be Superman or whatever and have all the answers immediately. You're barely more than a kid, Spencer, and even you have your limitations. We all do. We- I-" He stopped, unsure of what else he could possibly say to ease the young man's mind.

"She didn't have to die." He swiped angrily at his cheeks, dashing the telltale tears from them, hating the way his voice cracked and betrayed him.

Morgan sighed. "No, she didn't. None of them _had_ to. Okay, so we couldn't save her. We still saved countless other women from suffering the same fate, didn't we?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"No buts, kid. If nothing else, just remember that I have seniority over you, so what I say goes, and I say if you only focus on the negative, you won't last long in this occupation."

"I'm in way over my head. I don't know why I thought going into the FBI would be such a great idea."

"Because without you, not only would Teresa Knowlton be dead right now, we'd still have no clue who the Unsub was, and he'd still be out roaming the streets, probably picking up his next victim right this minute."

Reid scoffed. "You guys would have figured it out."

"Yeah, maybe two or three days from now."

"Gideon-"

"Is an amazing profiler, but his brain simply doesn't have the same capacity yours does for holding information and making connections. None of ours does."

Reid seemed to consider this for a moment. At last he sighed. "I think my brain is officially mush. I can't think straight anymore." He glanced to his right. "Think Hotch'd kill us if we emptied out the minibar?"

Morgan snickered. "No, but I doubt the Section Chief will be too pleased. If she complains, though, she can suck my-"

Reid was already crouching in front of the miniature refrigerator, sorting through the various bottles, completely ignoring his companion. "Any preferences?"

"Whatever's strongest. You're not the only one who needs to decompress."

"30.53."

"Proof? That's actually really weak, Reid."

"No, the average annual rainfall in San Antonio is 30.53 inches, though the actual amount varies widely from year to year. One year it can be less than twenty inches, and the next it'll be over forty."

"Hurry up with that alcohol. I've had enough of your statistics in the last few days that I don't want to hear anymore until I'm thoroughly trashed."

The next morning, Morgan woke to the feel of Spencer trying to quietly wriggle out from under the muscular arm that held him in place. He lay still, keeping his breathing even and steady as the young man succeeded, and started foraging for his clothes that had been strewn all over the small room. He dressed, not even bothering to take a brief shower, and slipped out. Twenty minutes later, it was Hotch who was pounding on his door, demanding that he be ready to go in half an hour's time, or he'd be left behind. He responded in the affirmative, not letting an ounce of his disappointment show, not even to himself.

"Here," Hotch said as he met with the others down in the lobby; he handed him a couple of painkillers. "Reid said you'll be hung over this morning?"

Morgan smiled and took them dutifully, though truth be told, he didn't really need them.


	55. Prompt 39: Taste

**Characters (Pairings): Reid, Morgan, mention of Garcia (None)  
****Rating: FRC  
****Warning(s): Reid's taste/Garcia's revenge, OoCness (Morgan being a fashionista? WTH?)  
****Spoilers: None  
****Word Count: 242.  
****Author's Notes: Not my best piece, but still fairly amusing. I've lost my Morganness; what I need to do is arrange my own little CM marathon in order to recapture his voice and mannerisms. Well, no, what I really need to do is catch up on homework and stop procrastinating.  
****Disclaimer: The voice inside my head keeps telling me I own Criminal Minds; unfortunately it also tells me that the sky is green, and that there are Hobbits living in my refrigerator.  
****Prompt 39: Taste** (Morgan and Reid)

"Reid, what is that?"

Glancing down. "One hundred percent cotton, I believe."

Morgan glares at him. "Funny, genius. I mean, what the _hell_ are you wearing?"

"Shirt and pants, same as usual." He tosses his bag in the general direction of his desk, walks past it without slowing down, muttering something about deargodwhereisthecaffeine. Morgan follows, unrelenting.

"Reid, you're wearing a Hawaiian shirt."

"If you already knew, why did you have to ask?" Not waiting for an answer, "Did you know that every year in Hawaii they have what is called –"

"No, I didn't, and no, I don't want to. Why exactly are you wearing that hideous thing?"

Reid considers the mug before him – adds one more spoonful of sugar, just to be safe – and shrugs. "Why not."

Morgan can only shake his head in despair. "You have no taste in fashion at all. I can tolerate the polka dots, and the plaid, and the sweater vests that don't match anything and should never see the light of day _ever_, but this-" he gestures vaguely at the coffee-drinking-train-wreak before him- "this is just going too far. You've left me with no choice, man. I'm going to have to bring out the big guns on this one."

Raising his eyebrow, "And that would be…?"

"I'mma get Garcia to take you to the mall."

"Hmm. I think you're not gonna wanna do that."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"She bought this shirt for me."


	56. Prompt 45: Moon

**Prompt 45: Moon**

Characters (Pairings): Morgan and Reid (R/M)

Rating: FRT/PG-13

Warning(s): slash, implied naughtiness

Spoilers: None

Word Count: 237

Author's Notes: This fic commemorates the one year anniversary of me writing for this Big Damn Table. XP And I still have forty-some prompts left to go... Dies Also, there really is a lunar eclipse tonight (February 20/21, 2008), but I don't get to see it because it's cloudy here. (

Disclaimer: I don't own these delightful characters.

* * *

"There's gonna be a lunar eclipse tonight."

Derek doesn't even look up from the book he's reading. "That so?"

"Yup. It'll be pretty awesome."

"No doubt."

"And the next one won't be for another two and a half years."

"That's not so far away."

"Well, no, I suppose not, but you know, carpe diem and all that. Or noctem, as the case may be."

"Seize the night? Now there's a concept I could definitely agree with." He smirks evilly at his lover.

Spencer perks up. "So does that mean you'll watch the eclipse with me?"

"Not necessarily, but I can guarantee there'll be a full moon tonight."

"Of course there will be; eclipses only happen on nights where there's a full moon." The look on his face is priceless as comprehension dawns. "Oh. That's not what you meant."

Derek can't help but chuckle as the young genius blushes furiously. "Glad to see I'm finally having some influence over you. A year ago you wouldn't have realized it was a joke until I explained it to you."

"Why do I put up with you again?"

"Because you like my full moon?"

"…"

"And because I'm willing to sit through an eclipse with you because I know it'll make you happy."

"Really?"

"Of course. But only if I get that full moon you promised me."

"Oh, trust me. You'll be seeing stars by the time I'm finished with you."


	57. Prompt 40: Sight

**Prompt 40: Sight**

Title: Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Characters (Pairings): Gideon, Reid, Hotch, mention of the team (Reid/Gideon, Reid/Hotch)

Rating: FRC?

Warning(s): Implied slash, incredible amounts of sappiness

Spoilers: Season three, although no specific mentions of what happened.

Word Count: 710

Author's Notes: I can't believe I just wrote Reid/Hotch……….. I blame empathyapathy for making me see the potential in the pairing.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these wonderful characters.

* * *

"_Happy birthday, Spencer."_

_Reid eyed the small package apprehensively; it looked altogether too familiar. "Please tell me that isn't more football tickets."_

_Gideon raised an eyebrow in response. "You didn't like my present last year?"_

"_Four long hours of watching twenty or so guys chasing a ball that isn't even shaped like a ball, while trying to make conversation with a woman I work with that didn't involve actual work – because let's face it: serial killers don't make good date-conversation material – and eating crappy concession stand food? Let me tell you how exhilarated I was."_

"_Alright, so you don't like football."_

"_Not exactly, no. Though if I were perfectly honest, I don't think I would have minded it so much if you had been there."_

"_That so? I hate football."_

_He was still looking at the package as though it might suddenly bite him. "What about baseball? Soccer? Basketball? Hock-"_

"_Just open the present," Gideon chuckled._

_Reid picked up the present; it certainly felt heavier than a pair of tickets. Ripping open the paper, he stopped short at the sight of an oblong jewelry box. "Jason…"_

"_Go ahead."_

_The sight of the carefully crafted silver chain nearly took his breath away. "It's beautiful, thank you," he said softly. "But I think it might be a little too big for my wrist."_

"_It's not for your wrist – it's for your ankle. I thought if I got you a bracelet people at work would start asking funny questions, and you don't really need a watch, so…" He gestured at the anklet. "That way nobody will see it unless you show up to work wearing shorts and sandals, in which case I'd have to fire you anyway._

"_Oh?" Reid laughed. "I thought you liked my scrawny, pasty chicken legs."_

_Gideon smiled. "I do. But my eyes have built up an immunity. It wouldn't look good for us if you blind half the FBI."_

"_Not to mention Morgan would probably die of a heart attack right then and there."_

"_Exactly. May I?" At his lover's nod, Gideon removed the chain from the box, and bent over to secure it around the young genius's leg. "I had them make it fairly thick, so it should be able to withstand all your running around."_

_Reid looked the older man in the eye, trying as hard as possible to convey everything he was feeling at the moment with just that glance. "Thank you," he whispered._

"Spencer?"

Reid started. "Sorry, what?"

Hotch looked at him quizzically, still holding the silver chain in his hand. "I asked you what this was and you kinda blanked out for a few minutes."

"Sorry, I was…remembering. It was a gift from Gideon."

Peering at it, "What was it doing in your underwear drawer?"

"What were you doing going through my underwear drawer?"

Hotch merely gave him a Look.

"Er, sorry. I guess I just stashed it there after he left because I didn't really have the right to wear it anymore, especially after you and I…" His voice died away.

"And you didn't want to get rid of it either."

Reid shrugged. "Haven't you ever kept something for purely sentimental value?"

"I still have just about every gift I ever received from Haley," Hotch admitted.

"So you don't mind then?"

"Not really, no. I mean, I know about you and Gideon, and it's in the past, so I can't really complain."

"Yeah."

Hotch sighed, placing the anklet on top of the dresser. "Oh well. In any case, happy birthday, Spencer." He handed his lover a small, oblong present. "Although now I see that I'm not as creative as I thought."

Reid opened the paper enthusiastically, his face lighting up when he saw the jewelry box. He took the lid off; inside was a thick gold chain, in the center of which was a gold plate bearing the inscription 'forever.' "It's beautiful."

"It's for your wrist, not your ankle, but then again you and I were never as good at hiding our relationship as you and Jason were."

"I love it, thank you."

"You're welcome. C'mon, we have to meet the others soon for your birthday dinner."

Reid grinned. "I can't wait to see the look on Garcia's face when she sees this."


	58. Prompt 67: Snow

**Prompt 67: Snow**

Characters (Pairings): Morgan, Emily, Reid (none)

Rating: FRC/G

Warning(s): None? Not even any slash! Cries

Spoilers: None

Word Count: 434

Author's Notes: It snowed the other night. In Texas. This state is officially bearable to live in once more. Reid, on the other hand, is not a happy camper.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. What I would like to own? A hamburger. I'm starving.

* * *

"Oh look, Emily; it's the abominable snowman."

Emily glanced up in time to see a large, hulking figure coming toward them. She laughed. "It's a nice look for you, Reid. Makes you look like you weigh more than one hundred pounds."

"Funny," replied the walking pile of cotton and polyester. "You two are just hilarious." Two hands appeared seemingly out of nowhere to begin unwrapping the scarf from around his neck.

Morgan shook his head. "Seriously, man, what's with the outfit?"

"In case you didn't notice, it snowed last night."

"So? It's supposed to get above fifty degrees today."

"But in the meantime, it's only thirty-five right now."

"You really needed all this just to get from your apartment to your car and then from your car to here?"

"My car's in the shop right now, remember? I had to take the subway this morning."

"That's understandable," Emily admitted, "but did you really need the ski goggles?"

"They kept the wind from hurting my eyes."

"And the earmuffs?" Morgan said.

"Keep my ears warm."

"Well then, why the hat?"

"Keep me from losing too much heat through my head."

"Because we all know how much hot air is stored up there," Emily joked.

Morgan chuckled. "But you have a hood on that giant _winter_ coat of yours."

"So?"

Morgan and Prentiss glanced at each other. "Can't really argue with that logic, can you?" Emily said.

"Guess not." He surveyed the rest of the young man's clothes, which were still being taken off, piece by piece. "Okay, the scarf I can understand, and the huge-ass coat. But did you need a sweater on under the coat?"

"In case I get cold indoors."

"Uh huh. All this stuff for your upper body, but what's keeping your legs warm?"

"Thermal underwear."

Emily laughed. "As if you really had to ask."

Morgan shook his head. "I didn't know they still made thermal underwear, let alone people bought it." He grinned at Reid. "Gonna take those off in the middle of the office, too?"

"Wasn't planning on it, no." He grabbed his coffee mug off his desk and started to head out.

"All those clothes and yet you didn't have a pair of gloves?"

"My old ones gave out last year, and I haven't had a chance to get some new ones yet." He rounded Morgan's desk on his way to the break room. "Besides, I knew there would be hot coffee waiting for me to warm my hands with, and also –"

"DYAHHHH, COLD!"

"I knew you'd make fun of me, so I needed a plan of retribution."


	59. Prompt 87: Life

Prompt 87: Life

Beta: None

Characters (Pairings): Reid, Morgan (R/M)

Rating: FRT

Warning(s): Non-graphic sexual situations, slash, mild swearing, angst

Spoilers: 3x16: Elephant's Memory

Word Count: 793

Author's Notes: Hello out there! It's been awhile – I've been so bogged down with schoolwork that I haven't had time to write anything….until now! I was so happy to see the R/M goodness in the latest episode that I just had to write this post-ep. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, nor the characters therein. I just like to play dress-up (down) with them and make them look pretty.

* * *

They hadn't spoken to each other in nearly six hours, despite the airplane's close proximity. Morgan was still seething about the incident in the street, and Reid…well, Reid knew he had to have his little talk with Hotch first before he could focus his attention on his angry lover. Somehow, though, not-quite through nonverbal agreement, Reid automatically made his way to Morgan's car when it came time for them to take leave of the office after returning to D.C. They still didn't speak, even as Morgan got in the driver's side and made his way not towards Reid's apartment to drop him off, like the others believed he was, but to his own apartment, where he promptly shoved Reid inside the front door and proceeded to let the younger man know _exactly_ what he thought of the idea of Reid putting himself in danger like he had, still without saying a single word. Spencer did not complain; if this was what his punishment was to be, he certainly would not argue.

Even satiated and somewhat calmer, Derek still did not venture to speak. He lay there silently, propped up on one elbow, tracing idle patterns on Spencer's chest as he regarded his lover with solemn eyes; Spencer himself was sprawled out, arms above his head in surrender, watching the other man with one eye, waiting. At last Derek heaves a heavy sigh.

"You really scared me today."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You could have been killed."

"I know."

"I saw you and Hotch talking on the plane."

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"Pretty much everything I know you're thinking right now. Well, minus the parts about fucking me into next Tuesday." He tried an impish smile.

No luck. "This is about more than just you identifying with that kid, isn't it?"

Spencer lowered his arms to his side, squirming uncomfortably. "I already talked about it with Hotch."

"Talk to _me_ about it," Derek pressed.

Spencer looked at him pleadingly. "I will, I promise. Just…not tonight."

The dark hand abandoned his creamy chest in favour of light brown hair. "Okay," he agreed readily – too readily. Before Spencer even had time to glance at him suspiciously, he continued. "What was that movie you were watching when we got called in, and why wasn't I invited?

It was Spencer's turn to sigh. "I promise, when I'm ready-"

The hand stilled on his face, pushing slightly – not painful, but there was a definite sense of pressure. "I'm sure. And in the meantime, I'm just supposed to wait patiently and not ask any questions, like a good little sex toy-"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. It's my life-"

"And I'm a part of it!"

Spencer sat up abruptly, all but flinging the restricting hand off of him. "You're a part of my life, yes, but this is a part that is completely separate-"

"Is that how you're going to do it, you're just going to compartmentalize all the little aspects of your life? Or is it that what you really mean is that I'm just a part of your work life, not your real life. That all this –" he gestures broadly at the room – "is just another part of work, and has nothing to do with your personal life."

"What about you? Do you meant to say that you share every little secret with me? If that's the case, how is it that I never knew about you getting bullied until just the other day?"

"That was in the past. This is now. I'm in your life _now_ and I want to know what else-"

"It's _private_. Why can't you accept that?"

"Because I don't want to see you hurting when there might be something I can do to help ease the hurt."

"There's not. You're gonna have to trust me on that."

Derek stared at him unhappily. "I don't like it."

"I'm sorry, but…" His hands fluttered helplessly.

"How long is it gonna take, exactly, for you to be able to open up to me?"

"Exactly, I don't know." He hesitated slightly, averting his eyes, then plunged on. "My best guess would be two, maybe three more meetings."

Derek was silent for a moment as he processed this. At last he gave a small snort and rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "Lie down, Spencer."

"Are you still mad at me?"

"I will be if you don't lie your ass down."

Spencer smiles sadly into the night as he complies. He burrows in close to the older man, twining his long legs around the other's, wanting to be as much in contact with him as possible. "I'm sorry." _I love you._

"Don't worry about it." _I love you, too._


	60. Prompt 35: Sixth Sense

**Prompt 35: Sixth Sense  
**Beta: None  
Characters (Pairings): Morgan and Reid (none?)  
Rating: FRC  
Warning(s): angsty-ish?  
Spoilers: Up to the beginning of season three.  
Word Count: 348  
Author's Notes: I'm done with school for the summer, so hopefully I'll be able to write more, should the inspiration strike.  
Disclaimer: I don't own these delightful characters.

* * *

"If you could have a superpower, what would it be?"

Reid glanced up from his paperwork to give Morgan a Look. "What?"

"Any superpower at all: the ability to fly, walk through walls, x-ray vision… Take your pick, man."

"Mmm, the ability to make you actually do your work."

"Too bad, Hotch already has that one."

"Har-de-har. So why hasn't he used it today?"

Morgan spread his hands wide. "I'm already done. See? Works every time."

"Ah, so that's why you are attempting to divert my attention from my work by posing inane hypothetical inquiries."

"If I had a superpower it would definitely be the ability to translation your nerdtalk into normalspeak."

"That doesn't take a superpower, just a half-way decent dictionary."

"You still haven't answered my question."

Reid sighed. "I guess I would want a sixth sense."

"What, like Haley Joel Osment's 'I see dead people' type sixth sense?"

He fiddled with his pen. "No, more like an ability to see the future, even if it's just the near future."

Morgan nodded. "Would definitely be helpful on the job."

"In more ways than one," he answered quietly, eyes fixed on Gid- Rossi's office door.

This did not escape his companion's attention. He shrugged. "It's difficult at first, I know. But I still imagine it would be better to get to know a person before they ditch you than never to know them at all."

"Loved-and-lost type thing?"

"Something like that."

Reid stared down at the papers before him without actually seeing them. At last he shook his head slightly, and looked up at Morgan, a small smirk on his lips. "X-ray vision, huh? I can see where that might become a burden in certain situations."

"Oh?"

"Sure. Any time you walk into a public restroom, for instance."

Morgan snorted. "Or Strauss's office."

Reid laughed. "Or Rossi's."

"Oh man, that is not a mental image I _ever_ want to think about again."

A snicker. "But then you'd be able to answer that age-old question."

Morgan gave him a suspicious look. "Which one would that be?"

"Boxers or briefs."

End


	61. Prompt 83: And

Prompt 83: And

Disclaimer: I don't own Reid, Morgan, or Reid's hair. 0.0

**Five Reasons Spencer Reid Keeps His Hair Long**

1) It makes him look more like an adult and less like a fourteen-year-old kid.

2) He can never find the time to make an appointment at a hair salon, let alone keep it.

3) He doesn't want another disaster like the last time his hair was "styled."

4) It's better to let Garcia play with his long locks when she's bored, rather than her going through his desk drawers….again.

5) "What d'you mean you wanna get your hair cut? You should keep it long; it suits you like that. Trust me, kid, it's a very sexy look for you."


	62. Prompt 13: Yellow

What Garcia Knows Might Hurt Help Morgan

Characters (Pairings): Morgan, Garcia, Reid (M/R)

Rating: FRT?

Warning(s): Pre-slash

Spoilers: None

Summary: Garcia loves playing matchmaker.

Word Count: 1219

Author's Notes: Well, I haven't given up on the prompt table entirely. It's just between classes, homework, work, taking the GRE, applying for grad schools, and trying to have a social life, I just don't have time to write any fanfiction. Hopefully, however, there will soon be more to come. Not sure I got the voices right, though; I'm a bit rusty in the CM fandom.

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.

**Prompt 13: Yellow**

"C'mon in, Baby-girl, have a seat on the couch. I'm just gonna go grab the food, then we can start the movie, 'kay?"

Garcia grins up at him, play-flirting, and hands over the bottle of Merlot she is holding. "Brought you a present, my diamond in the rough."

"Hmm, I always thought of popcorn and chocolate-dipped pretzels as more of a white wine type, but I suppose this will have to do." He winks at her before disappearing into the kitchen, just barely catching the tongue she flicks at him out of the corner of his eye.

Mumbling under her breath about men and uselessness, Garcia takes her usual seat on the couch. In front of her, on the coffee table is the movie of the week: _Snatch._ She has never heard of it before, but Morgan claims it's good. A guy flick, to be sure, but then again she got to choose last week, and after making Morgan suffer through _Titanic_, she won't begrudge him this little bit of testosterone-laden violence. Besides, it has Brad Pitt in it, so that _has_ to make up for all the manly-guyness.

Her attention is diverted, however, when Clooney jumps up into her lap, clutching something yellow and soft in his mouth. "What's this? A new toy? Daddy sure does spoil you, doesn't he?" She wrestles it away from him and is about to throw it across the room for him to fetch, when she suddenly stops – it's not a toy after all, but a sock. One she recognizes.

Morgan returns at that moment, balancing huge bowls of snacks along with two glasses and the bottle of wine. "Here we are, Lady Love, a feast fit for two very exhausted Fibbies. Your wine, Mad- what?"

She holds up the sock. "Where did this come from?" She tries to keep the smirk from sounding itself in her voice, to no avail.

He frowns, glances at his dog. "Clooney must've snagged it from my drawer. Thinks all my socks are his personal chew toys."

The smirk has spread to her eyes now. "I didn't know yellow smiley faces were your style for footwear."

A casual shrug. "One of my sisters probably bought it for me. I don't really care all that much about what goes on my feet."

Unable to stop it, she feels the smirk break out across her lips. "Morgan, this sock belongs to Reid."

There is a flash of panic, quickly concealed by bewilderment. "I- are you sure?"

"I bought it for him last Christmas, along with about five other pairs just as obnoxious. Told him if he wanted to make a statement with crazy socks, he might as well go all out."

"Hm, well he must have left it here by accident." Not looking her in the eye, he reaches over to grab the DVD box.

She glares at him suspiciously. "And what is Reid doing taking off his clothes in your home?"

Morgan nearly chokes on thin air. "He wasn't- Don't just- I invited him over to watch a movie! He was just trying to get comfortable."

"Are you cheating on me, Derek Morgan?" She feels like she has just stepped into the Twilight Zone, where tough, manly Morgan has been turned into a stuttering, incoherent (dare she even think love-struck?) fool.

"Hey, you never said we had to be movie-exclusive." He seems to be getting back into a relaxed state, though nowhere near his usual playfulness. "The kid looked like he could use an evening of zoning out in front of the TV."

"What did you guys watch?"

"Sleplisittle."

"Come again?"

"I said, _Sleepless in Seattle_." She had never seen such a dark man blush so deeply before.

"Jeez, Morgan, could you have been any more blatant? Maybe you should have just worn a sign that said, 'Spencer Reid, I want to get in you pants.' Better yet, you should have just answered the door naked."

His glare is somehow less than effective. "Come on, Mama, don't make fun. You can't tell me you haven't thought how much fun he could be if given half a chance."

No, she honestly couldn't. There was just something about those eyes and that little smirk he wore sometimes when he was teasing his coworkers that made him downright sexy at times, but still…Morgan? "Couldn't you have been at least a little subtle?"

"Hey, I didn't choose the movie. He said he'd never seen it before."

A snort. "And I'm sure you were so incredibly reluctant to watch it, weren't you."

"I put up a good show."

"Uh-huh. So?"

"So…what?"

"So…" She gestures vaguely. "How was it?"

"The movie? Sucked balls, and not in the way I was hoping."

"You mean you guys didn't…"

"Nope. He thanked me for a good time, put on his shoes and left. He had his socks in his pocket, but one of them must have fallen out on his way to the door 'cause I found it the next morning. Meant to give it back to him, but I forgot."

"And in the meantime you've been keeping it in your sock drawer?"

"Where else would you keep a sock?"

"Under my pillow, if it were yours." She grins at him wickedly before putting on a more serious face. "Is he even gay?"

"Oh yeah. The question isn't about his sexuality, it's more about getting him to realize I want to have sex with him."

"Is that all?" Her tone is deceptively neutral.

He hesitates. "No, that's not all. I don't know why, but I've felt more about him than I have anyone other than you in a very long time. I just…can't place it, exactly."

"You really are in love, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't go _that_ far."

"Yet."

"…Yet."

A pause, while they both dwell on their own thoughts.

"So when's the next movie night?"

He frowns at her. "It's tonight, innit?"

Rolling her eyes, "I meant for the two of you."

"Oh. Wasn't planning on one."

"What? Why not? Call him right now and tell him to get his butt over here. I'll stick around for a while and then magically remember there's something I have to do, and you two will be all alone to appreciate the godliness that is Brad Pitt's half-naked body."

He laughs. "Nothing doin', Mama. He's probably busy or something."

"I'll put my money on the 'something.' What's Reid going to be doing on a Friday night without all the rest of us? Call."

"No."

"Fine, I'll call." She pulls out her mobile. "And I'll tell him _exactly_ why you want him to come over for movie night."

He pounces on her. "Don't you dare, Garcia. I'll call him, alright?"

Garcia settles back, satisfied. She loves playing matchmaker. As Morgan hits speed dial number three, Garcia plots. If it really is just a question of getting Reid to see the potential, this should not be too hard. A few lines, a couple of well-placed innuendoes, and before you can say 'Penelope, you're the best,' the two should be on their way to a romance ten times better than _Brokeback Mountain._ And if she plays her cards right, she might even get a chance to take a few pictures for herself. Preferably without their knowledge. Bonus points if they're in bed.


	63. Prompt 97: Writer's Choice

****

Title: 10 Titleless Microfics

Author: Fireness

Beta: None

Characters (Pairings): Morgan, Reid (M/R)

Rating: PG-15

Warning(s): Slash

Spoilers: Hmm, very vague up through this season

Summary: 10 microfics (10 words or less) about Morgan and Reid

Word Count: 100-ish

Author's Notes: Wow, it's been a long time since I've posted here. In any case, they started this thing over on livejournal's psych_slash community, so I'm bringing it over to CM. :) Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. It's a sad story.

UST

Spencer wants Morgan tackling _him_, not some stupid minivan.

**1****st**** Time**

It's a study in contrast, the way their bodies combine.

**Angst**

"Whenever I let someone close, they leave."

"Never me, Prettyboy."

**Smut**

Just three words, and Morgan is hard as a rock.

**Humour**

"It's only broken."

"You tried to tackle an airplane!"

**Crackfic**

"The pale skin…the eyes…"

"Yes, it's because I'm a vampire."

**Crossover**

"SBPD Head Psychic, Shawn Spencer."

"Y'know, studies show-"

"AH! Psychic vision alert!"

**AU**

"Mr. Morgan? You're gonna be okay. We caught the man."

**H/C**

"You're safe now, Prettyboy."

"I know. You're here."

**Fluff**

"Happy birthday, Morgan."

"You didn't have-"

"But I wanted to."


	64. Prompt 5: Outsides

Characters (Pairings): Morgan and Reid (M/R)

Rating: PG-13 for inexplicit sexual situations

Warning(s): slash, major dorkiness

Spoilers: None

Word Count: 306

Author's Notes: Yes, my boyfriend took me to see the Star Trek movie on opening night. No, neither of us are Trekkies. No, not very many people were dressed up (that I saw, anyway).

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds does not belong to me. Nor do Klingons, Vulcans, or Captain Kirk.

**Prompt 5: Outsides**

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

"Oh, come on, it's just a movie!"

"There are gonna be people dressed up, aren't there?"

"Well…yes, probably; it's opening night, after all. But that doesn't mean you have to."

"Are _you_ gonna dress up?"

"I…well, that is, I thought…not if you don't want me to, I suppose. If it means you'll go with me."

Morgan rubs his eyes in frustration. "Let me guess, full Klingon makeup?"

"No! I'm not that much of a dork."

"Ha! Tell me another. Okay, no Klingons…Kirk's uniform?"

"No."

"Vulcan ears and eyebrows?"

"…No?"

"Oh, please tell me you're joking."

"What? I swear I won't wear them if you promise to come with me. _Please?_"

Morgan can feel his strength slipping; he never can resist those damn pleading eyes. "You won't dress up?"

"I swear."

"And you won't say a word throughout the entire movie?"

"I won't."

"And we'll have sex immediately when we come home? Before you even so much as _think_ about blogging your reaction and cataloguing the mistakes and whatever else you're planning on doing the moment you have a spare moment?"

Reid pauses. "I promised Garcia, since she can't go see it until tomorrow…"

"Oh, well. Have fun seeing it by yourself, then."

"Alright, alright! Fine. I won't so much as turn on my computer until you've had your glorious orgasm. Should only take a couple of min- Ow!"

"That was a low blow, kid. Just for that, I'm hiding your ears. Or maybe I'll find an alternate use for them."

"Like what?"

"I dunno yet, but I'm sure I can come up with something. Think anyone's ever used Vulcan ears as a sex aid before?"

"…You are so twisted. I hope Leonard Nimoy hunts you down and kicks your ass."

"Live long and prosper?"

"Just get in the car."


End file.
